LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap. Copyright No.^-t-5 

8helf .„__Li-^ 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE 
NIGHT 



qSooKb Bg 
Barnes ^^iicomS (Hifeg 

NEGHBOELY POEMS 

SKETCHES IN PROSE AND 

INTEELUDING VERSES 
AFTEEWHILES 
PIPES O' PAN (Prose and Verse) 
RHYMES OF CHILDHOOD 

FLYING ISLANDS OP THE 
NIGHT 

GEEEN FIELDS AND EUN- 
NING BEOOKS 

ARMAZINDY 

A CHILD -WORLD 

OLD-FASHIONED ROSES 

(English Edition) 

THE GOLDEN YEAR 
(English Edition) 

POEMS HERE AT HOME 

EUBllYlT OF DOC SIFERS 

CHILD-RHYMES WITH 
HOOSIER PICTURES 

RILEY LOVE -LYRICS 
(Pictures by Dyer) 



The Flying Islands 

Of the Night 



/ 

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 



^ 



INDIANAPOLIS 

THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



Library of Congress 

Two Copies Recfivfo 
FEB 1 1901 

^ Copjrlght wtrv 
3-sU-. 1L, /^o/ 






Copyright, 1891, i8g8, 1900, 

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RlLEY. 



Braunworth, Munn & Barber 

Printers and Binders 

Brooklyn, N, Y. 



TO 

MADISON CAWEIN 



'■'■A thynge of ivytchencreft — an idle dreme." 



CONTENTS 

PAG-B 

THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT . . 1 

For the Song^s sake ; even so 3 

SPIRK AND WUNK EHYMES— ROUNDS AND 
CATCHES 
To loll back, in a misty hammock, swung . . . . 126 

After Death 193 

An Out-Woen Sappho 187 

A Variation 184 

A Wrangdillion . 161 

Death 147 

"Dream" 159 

Ere I Went Mad 170 

Eternity 173 

For You 154 

Laughter 169 

Out op the Dark and the Dearth 137 

Song op Parting 198 

Songs Tuneless 133 

Spiek Troll-Derisive 138 

The Assassin 183 

The Light op Love 132 

The Lovely Husband 128 

(vii) 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Quest 196 

The Eain 153 

The Romaunt of King Mordameer .... 140 
The Speeding op the King's Spite .... 174 

The Strange Young Man 156 

The Werewipe 151 

The Witch op Erkmurden . 164 

Three Several Birds 200 

To THE Wine-God Merlus 195 

We are not Always Glad when We Smile . 149 



(viii) 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE 
NIGHT 



FOR the Song^ s sake; even so: 
Humor it, and let it go 
All untamed and wild of wing — 
Leave it ever truanting. 

Be its flight elusive! — La, 
For the Song^s sake — even so. — 
Yield it but an ear as kind 
As thou perkest to the wind. 

Who will name us what the seas 
Have sung on for centuries? 
For the Song's sake! Even so — 
Sing, O Seas! and Breezes, blow! 

Sing I or Wave or Wind or Bird- 
Sing I nor ever afterward 
tClear thy meaning to us — No ! — 
For the Song's sake, JEven so. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 



Krung King — of the Spirks. 

Crestillomeem 

The Queen — Second Consort to Krung. 



The Tune-Fool. 

Prince — Son ^ Krung. 

A Princess — of the Wunks. 

A Dwarf — of the Spirks. 

Nightmares. 



Spraivoll 
Amphine 

DWAINIE 
JUCKLET 

Creech and ) 
Gritchfang 3 
Counsellors, Courtiers, Heralds, etc., etc., etc. 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

ACT L 

Scene — The Flying Islands. 

Scene I. Spirkland. Time, Moondatvn. Interior 
Court of Krung. A vast, pendent star burns 
dimly in dome above throne, Crestillomeem 
discovered languidly reclining at foot oj 
empty throne, an overturned goblet lying 
near, as though just drained. The Queen, 
in seeming dazed , ecstatic state, ra-ptly gazing 
upward, listening. Swarming forms and 
features in air above, seen eeriely coming and 
going, blending and intermingling in domed 
ceiling-spaces of court. Weird music. Mys- 
tic, luminous, beautiful faces detached from 

5 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

swarm^Jloat, singly, forward, — tremulously, 
and in succession, ^poising in mid-air and 
chanting. 

First Face. 
And who hath known her — like as / 
Have known her? — since the envying sky 
Filched from her cheeks its morning-hue, 
And from her eyes its glory, too, 
Of dazzling shine and diamond-dew. 

Second Face. 

/ knew her — long and long before 
High yEo loosed her palm and thought : 
"What awful splendor have I wrought 
To dazzle earth and Heaven, too!" 

Third Face. 
I knew her — long ere Night was o'er — 
Ere -^o yet conjectured what 
To fashion Day of — ay, before 
He sprinkled stars across the floor 
6 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Of dark, and swept that form of mine, 
E'en as a fleck of blinded shine, 
Back to the black where light was not. 

Fourth Face. 

Ere day was dreamt, I saw her face 
Lift from some starry hiding-place 
Where our old moon was kneeling while 
She lit its features with her smile. 

Fifth Face. 

I knew her while these islands yet 
Were nestlings — ere they feathered wing, 
Or e'en could gape with them or get 
Apoise the laziest-ambling breeze, 
Or cheep, chirp out, or anything! 
When Time crooned rhymes of nurseries 
Above them — nodded, dozed and slept, 
And knew it not, till, wakening. 
The morning-stars agreed to sing 
And Heaven's first tender dews were wept. 
7 



the flying islands of the night 

Sixth Face. 
I knew her when the jealous hands 
Of Angels set her sculptured form 
Upon a pedestal of storm 
And let her to this land with strands 
Of twisted lightnings. 

Seventh Face. 

And I heard 
Her voice ere she could tone a word 
Of any but the Seraph-tongue. — 
And O sad-sweeter than all sung- 
Or word-said things! — to hear her say, 
Between the tears she dashed away: — 
"Lo, launched from the offended sight 
Of ^o! — anguish infinite 
Is ours, O Sisterhood of Sin ! 
Yet is thy service mine by right, 
And, sweet as I may rule it, thus 
Shall Sin's myrrh-savor taste to us — 
Sin's Empress — let my reign begin ! " 



the flying islands of the night 

Chorus of Swarming Faces. 

We follow thee forever on ! 

Thro' darkest night and dimmest dawn ; 

Thro' storm and calm — thro' shower and shine, 

Hear thou our voices answering thine : 
We follow — craving but to be 
Thy followers. — We follow thee— 
We follow, follow, follow thee ! 

We follow ever on and on — 
O'er hill and hollow, brake and lawn; 
Thro' grewsome vale and dread ravine 
Where light of day is never seen. — 
We waver not in loyalty, — 
Unfaltering we follow thee — 
We follow, follow, follow thee ! 

We follow ever on and on ! 
The shroud of night around us drawn, 
Though wet with mists, is wild-ashine 
With stars to light that path of thine ; — 

9 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

The glow-worms, too, befriend us — we 
Shall fail not as we follow thee. 
We follow, follow, follow thee ! 

We follow ever on and on. — ^ 
The notched reeds we pipe upon 
Are pithed with music, keener blown 
And blither where thou leadest lone — 
Glad pangs of its ecstatic glee 
Shall reach thee as we follow thee. 
We follow, follow, follow thee ! 

We follow ever on and on : 

We know the ways thy feet have gone, — 

The grass is greener, and the bloom 

Of roses richer in perfume — 

And birds of every blooming tree 
Sing sweeter as we follow thee. 
We follow, follow, follow thee ! 

We follow ever on and on ; 
For wheresoever thou hast gone 

lO 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

We hasten joyous, knowing there 
Is sweeter sin than otherwhere — 

Leave still its latest cup, that we 
May drain it as we follow thee. 
We follow, follow, follow thee ! 



^Throughout jinal stanzas^ faces ^ in fore- and 
forms in background slowly vanish\ and 
voices gradually fail to sheer silence. — Cres- 
TILLOMEEM, rising^ and wistfully gazing 
and listening; then, evidently regaining 
wonted self , looks to be assured of being wholly 
alone — then speaks."] 



Crestillomeem. 

The Throne is throwing wide its gilded arms 
To welcome me. The Throne of Krung! Ha! 

ha! 
Leap up, ye lazy echoes, and laugh loud! 
II 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

For I, Crestillomeem, the Queen — ha ! ha ! 
Do fling my richest mirth into your mouths 
That ye may fatten ripe with mockery! 
I marvel what the kingdom would become 
Were I not here to nurse it like a babe 
And dandle it above the reach and clutch 
0£ intermeddlers in the royal line 
And their attendant serfs. Hoi Jucklet, ho! 
'Tis time my knarled warp of nice anatomy 
Were here, to weave us on upon our mesh 
Of silken villanies. Ho! Jucklet, ho! 

\Lifts secret door in fave and dro^s a star-bud 
through opening. Enter Jucklet from be- 
low J\ 

Jucklet. 

Spang sprit I my gracious Queen! but thou hast 

scorched 
My left ear to a cinder! and my head 

12 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Rings like a ding-dong on the coast of death ! 
For, patient hate ! thy hasty signal burst 
Full in my face as hitherward I came ! 
But though my lug be fried to crisp, and my 
Singed wig stinks like a little sun-stewed Wunk, 
I stretch my fragrant presence at thy feet 
And kiss thy sandal with a blistered lip. 

Crestillomeem. 

Hold! rare-done fool, lest I may bid the cook 
To bake thee brown ! How fares the King by 
this? 

JUCKLET. 

Safe couched midmost his lordly hoard of books, 
I left him sleeping like a quinsied babe 
Next the guest-chamber of a poor man's house : 
But ere I came away, to rest mine ears, 
I salved his welded lids, uncorked his nose, 
And o'er the odorous blossom of his lips 

13 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Re-squeezed the tinctured sponge, and felt his 

pulse 
Come staggering back to regularity. 
And four hours hence his Highness will awake 
And Peace will take a nap ! 

Crestillomeem . 

Ha I What mean you ? 

JuCKLET. \_Ominously r^ 

I mean that he suspects our knaveries. — 
Some covert spy is burrowed in the court — 
Nay, and I pray thee startle not aloud, 
But mute thy very heart in its out-throb. 
And let the blanching of thy cheeks but be 
A whispering sort of pallor ! 

Crestillomeem. 

A spy .? — Here ? 



'4 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 
JUCKLET. 

Ay, here — and haply even now. And one 
Whose unseen eye seems ever focussed keen 
Upon our action, and w^hose hungering ear 
Eats every crumb of counsel that we drop 
In these our secret interviews! — For he — 
The King — through all his talking-sleep to-day 
Hath jabbered of intrigue, conspiracy — 
Of treachery and hate in fellowship, 
With dire designs upon his royal bulk, 
To oust it from the Throne. 

Crestillomeem. 

He spake my name ? 

Jucklet. 

O Queen, he speaks not ever but thy name 
Makes melody of every sentence. — Yea, 
He thinks thee even true to him as thou 
Art fickle, false and subtle ! O how blind 
15 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

And lame, and deaf and dumb, and worn and 

weak, 
And faint, and sick, and all-commodious 
His dear love is! In sooth, O wifely one, 
Thy malleable spouse doth mind me of 
That pliant hero of the bald old catch 
"The Lovely Husband."— Shall I wreak the 
thing? 

\^Sings — tvith much affected gravity and grim- 
ace. '\ 

O a lovely husband he was known. 

He loved his wife and her a-lone ; 

She reaped the harvest he had sown ; 

She ate the meat ; he picked the bone. 
With mixed admirers every size. 
She smiled on each without disguise ; 
This lovely husband closed his eyes 
Lest he might take her by surprise. 



i6 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

\Aside, exclamatory."^ 
Chorious uprorious ! 

\Then pantomime as though 'pulling at bell-rope— 
singing in pent, explosive utterance^ 

Trot! 

Run! 

Wasn't he a handy hubby? 

What 
Fun 

She could plot and plan ! 
Not 

One 

Other such a dandy hubby 
As this lovely man ! 

Crestillomeem. 

Or talk or tune, wilt thou wind up thy tongue 
Nor let it tangle in a knot of words ! 
What said the King? 
2 17 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

JucKLET. [ With recovered reverence. ] 

He said: "Crestlllomeem — 
O that she knew this thick distress of mine! — 
Her counsel would anoint me and her voice 
Would flow in limpid wisdom o'er my woes 
And, like a love-balm, lave my secret grief 
And lull my sleepless heart ! ' ' \Aside'\ And so 

went on. 
Struggling all maudlin in the wrangled web 
That well-nigh hath cocooned him ! 

Crestillomeem. 

Did he yield 
No hint of this mysterious distress 
He needs must hold sequestered from his Queen ? 
What said he in his talking-sleep by which 
Some clew were gained of how and when and 

whence 
His trouble came ? 



i8 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 
JUCKLET. 

In one strange phase he spake 
As though some sprited lady talked with him. — 
Full courteously he said: "In woman's guise 
Thou comest, yet I think thou art, in sooth, 
But woman in thy form. — Thy words are strange 
And leave me mystified. I feel the truth 
Of all thou hast declared, and yet so vague 
And shadow- like thy meaning is to me, 
I know not hov.^ to act to ward the blow 
Thou sayest is hanging o'er me even now." 
And then, with open hands held pleadingly. 
He asked, "Who is my foe.'"' — And o'er his 

face 
A sudden pallor flashed, like death itself, 
As though, if answer had been given, it 
Had fallen like a curse. 



19 



the flying islands of the night 

Crestillomeem. 

I'll Stake my soul 
Thrice over in the grinning teeth of doom, 
'Tis Dwainie of the Wunks who peeks and peers 
With those fine eyes of hers in our affairs 
And carries Krung, in some disguise, these hints 
Of our intent ! See thou that silence falls 
Forever on her lips, and that the sight 
She wastes upon our secret action blurs 
With gray and grisly scum that shall for aye 
Conceal us from her gaze while she writhes blind 
And fangless as the fat worms of the grave ! 
Here ! take this tuft of downy druze, and when 
Thou comest on her, fronting full and fair, 
Say '•'•Sherzham!" thrice, and fluff it in her face. 

JUCKLET. 

Thou knowest scanty magic, O my Queen, 
But all thou dost is fairly excellent — 



20 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

An this charm work, thou shalt have fuller faith 
Than still I must withhold. 

\_Takes charm ^ 'with extravagant salutation.'\ 

Crestillomeem. 

Thou gibing knave ! 
Thou thing! Dost dare to name my sorcery 
As any trifling gift? Behold what might 
Be thine an thy deserving wavered not 
In stable and abiding service to 
Thy Queen ! 

\_She presses suddenly her falm upon his eyes, 
then lifts her softly opening hand upward, 
his gaze following, where, slowly shaping in 
the air above them, appears semblance — or 
counter-self — of Crestillomeem, clothed in 
most radiant youth, her m.aidenface bent 
downward to a moon-lit sward^ where kneels 
a lover-knight— flawless in manly symmetry 
and princely beauty, — yet none other than the 

31 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

counter-self of Jucklet, eeriely and with 
strange sweetness singings to some curiously 
tinkling instrument^ the praises of its queenly 
mistress: Jucklet and Crestillomeem 
transfixed below — trancedly gazing on their 
mystic selves above.'] 

Semblance of Jucklet, \_Sings.'] 

Crestillomeem I 

Crestillomeem I 

Soul of my slumber ! — Dream of my dream I 

Moonlight may fall not as goldenly fair 

As falls the gold of thine opulent hair — 

Nay^ nor the starlight as dazzlingly gleam 

As gleam thine eyes^ ^ Meema — Crestillomeem ! — 

Stars of the skies^ ^ Meema- 

Crestillomeem ! 



22 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Semblance of Crestillomeem. '[Stng-s.'\ 

O Prince divine I 

O Prince divine I 

Tempt thou me not with that sweet voice of thine ! 
Though my proud brow bear the blaze of a crown ^ 
Lo, at thy feet must its glory bow down^ 
That from the dust thou m.ayest lift me to shine 
Heaven'd in thy heart's rapture, O Prince di- 
vine ! — 

^ueen of thy love ever^ 

O Prince divine! 

Semblance of Jucklet. {^Singsr^ 

Crestillomeem ! 

Crestillomeem ! 

Our life shall fow as a musical stream — 

Windingly — placidly on shall it wend, 

Marged with mazhoora-bloom banks without end — 

Word-birds shall call thee and dreamily scream, 

' ' Where dost thou cruise, ' Meema — Crestillomeem? 

Whither away, 'MeemaP — 

Crestillomeem /'* 
23 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Duo. 

[ Vision and voices gradually failing awav.l 

Crestillomeem I 

Crestillomeem! 
Soul of my slumber ! — Dream of my dream! 
Star of Love^ s lights ^ Meefna — Crestillomeem I 
Crescent of Nighty ^Meema! — 

Crestillomeejyi ! 

\_Witk song, vision likewise fails utterly. '\ 

Crestillomeem. 

\To JucKLET, still trancedly staring upward.'] 

How now, thy clabber-brained spudge ! — 
Thou squelk! — thou — 

JuCKLET. 

Nay, O Queen ! contort me not 
To more condensed littleness than now 
My shamed frame incurreth on itself, 

24 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Seeing what might fare with it, didst thou will 
Kindly to nip it with thy magic here 
And leave it living in that form i' the air, 
Forever pranking o'er the daisied sward 
In wake of sandal-prints that dint the dews 
As lightly as, in thy late maidenhood, 
Thine own must needs have done in flighting from 
The dread encroachments of the King. 

Crestillomeem. 

Nay — ^peace ! 

JUCKLET. 

So be it, O sweet Mystic. — But I crave 
One service of thy magic yet. — Amphine ! — 
Breed me some special, damned philter for 
Amphine — Xhefair Amphine ! — to chuck it him, 
Some serenade-tide, in a sodden slug 
O' pastry, 'twixt the door-crack and a screech 
O' rusty hinges. — Hey! Amphine, the j^zr/ — 
And let me, too, elect his doom, O Queen! — 

25 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Listed against thee, he, too, doubtless hath 
Been favored with an outline of our scheme. — 
And I would kick my soul all over hell 
If I might juggle his fine figure up 
In such a shape as mine ! 

Crestillomeem. 

Then this : — When thou 
Canst come upon him bent above a flower, 
Or any blooming thing, and thou, arear, 
Shalt reach it first and, thwartwise, touch it fair. 
And with thy knuckle flick him on the knee, — 
Then — his fine form will shrink and shrivel up 
As warty as a toad's — so hideous, 
Thine own shall seem a marvel of rare grace ! 
Though idly speak' st thou of my mystic skill, 
'Twas that which won the King for me ; — 'twas 

that 
Bereft him of his daughter ere we had 
Been wedded yet a haed: — She strangely went 
26 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Astray one moonset from the palace-steps — 
She went — nor yet returned. — Was it not 

strange ? — 
She would be wedded to an alien prince 
The morrow midnight — to a prince whose sire 
I once kjzew, in lost hours of lute and song, 
When he was but a prince — / but a mouth 
For him to lift up sippingly and drain 
To lees most ultimate of stammering sobs 
And maudlin wanderings of blinded breath. 

JucKLET. [^Aside.~\ 

Thvigg-brebblets I but her Majesty hath speech 
That doth bejuice all metaphor to drip 
And spray and mist of sweetness ! 

Crestillomeem. [ Confusedly. ] 

Where was I.'' 
O, ay! — The princess went — she strangely 
went! — 

27 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

E'en as I dreamed her lover-princeling would 
As strangely go, were she not soon restored. — 
As so he did: — That airy penalty 
The jocund Fates provide our love-lorn wights 
In this glad island : So for thrice three nights 
They spun the prince his line and marked him 

pay 
It out (despite all warnings of his doom) 
In fast and sleepless search for her — and then 
They tripped his fumbling feet and he fell — 

up! — 
Up I — as 'tis writ — sheer past Heaven's flinch- 
ing walls 
And topmost cornices. — Up — up and on ! — 
And, it is grimly guessed of those who thus 
For such a term bemoan an absent love, 
And so fall z^^wise, they must needs fall on — 
And on and on — and on — and on — and on ! 
Ha! ha! 



28 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 
JUCKLET. 

^uahhl but the prince's holden breath 
Must ache his throat by this ! But, O my Queen, 
What of the princess ? — and — 

Crestillomeem. 

The princess? — Ay — 
The princess! Ay, she went — she strangely 

went! 
And when the dainty vagrant came not back — 
Both sire and son in apprehensive throes 
Of roj'^al grief — the very Throne befogged 
In sighs and tears! — when all hope waned at 

last, 
And all the spies of Spirkland, in her quest, 
Came straggling empty-handed home again, — 
Why, then the wise King sleeved his rainy eyes 
And sagely thought the pretty princess had 
Strayed to the island's edge and tumbled off. 
I could have edged his mind at ease on that — 
29 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

I could have told him, — yea^ she tumbled off — 
I tumbled her I — and tumbled her so plump, 
She tumbled in an under-island, then 
Just slow-unmooring from our own and poised 
For unknown voyagings of flight afar 
And all remote of latitudes of ours. — 
Ay, into that land I tumbled her from which 
But one charm known to art can tumble her 
Back into this, — and that charm (guilt be 

praised!) 
Is lodged not in the wit nor the desire 
Of my rare lore. 

JUCKLET. 

Thereinasmuch find joy! 
But dost thou know that rumors flutter now 
Among thy subjects of thy sorceries ? — 
The art being banned^ thou knowest; or, 

unhoused, 
Is unleashed pitilessly by the grim, 

30 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Facetious body of the dridular ^ 

Upon the one who fain had loosed the curse 
On others. — An my counsel be worth aught, 
Then have a care thy spells do not revert 
Upon thyself, nor yet mine own poor hulk 
O' f earsomeness ! 

Crestillomeem. 
Ha ! ha ! No vaguest need 
Of apprehension there! — While Krung 
remains — 

\_She abruptly pauses — startled jirst^ then listen- 
ing curiously and with awed interest. Voice 
of exquisite melodiousness and fervor heard 
singing. "^ 

Voice. 

When kings are kings, and kings are men — 

And the lonesome rain is raining! — 
O who shall rule from the red throne then, 
And who shall covet the sceptre when — 

When the winds are all complaining? 
31 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

When men are men, and men are kings — 
And the lonesome rain is raining! — 
O who shall list as the minstrel sings 
Of the crown's fiat, or the signet-ring's, 

When the winds are all complaining? 

Crestillomeem. 

Whence flows such sweetness, and what voice 
is that? 

JUCKLET. 

The voice of Spraivoll, an mine ears be whet 
And honed o' late honyed memories 
Behaunted the deserted purlieus of 
The court. 

Crestillomeem. 

And who is Spraivoll, and what song 
Is that besung so blinding exquisite 
O cadenced mystery? 



32 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 
JUCKLET. 

Spraivoll — O Queen, — 
Spraivoll The Tune-Fool is she named 
By those who meet her ere the day long wanes 
And naught but janiteering sparsely frets 
The cushioned silences and stagnant dusts 
Indifferently resuscitated by 
The drowsy varlets in mock servitude 
Of so refurbishing the royal halls : 
She Cometh, alien, from Wunkland — so 
Hath she deposed to divers questioners 
Who have been smitten of her voice — as rich 
In melody as she is poor in caste and intellect. 
She hath been roosting, pitied of the hinds 
And scullions, round about the palace here 
For half a node. 

Crestillomeem. 

And pray, where is she perched — 
This wild-bird woman with her wondrous throat? 
3 33 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 
JUCKLET. 

Under some dingy cornice, like enough — 
Though •wild-bird she is not, being plumed in. 
Not feathers, but one fustioned stole — the like 
Of which so shameth her fair face one needs 
Must swear some lusty oaths, but that they shape 
Themselves full gentlewise in mildest prayer: — 
Not wild-bird ; — nay, nor woman — though, in 

truth, 
She ith a licensed idiot, and drifts 
About, as restless and as useless, too, 
As any lazy breeze in summer-time. 
I'll call her forth to greet your Majesty. 
Ho ! Spraivoll ! Ho ! my twittering birdster, flit 
Thou hither. 

\Enter Spraivoll — -from behind group of statu- 
ary — singing. ] 



34 



the flying islands of the night 

Spraivoll. 

Ting-aling ! Ling-ting ! Tingle-tee ! 
The moon spins round and round for me ! 
Wind it up with a golden key. 
Ting-aling! Ling-ting! Tingle-tee! 

Crestillomeem. 

Who art thou, and what the strange 
Elusive beauty and intent of thy 
Sweet song? What singest thou, vague, mystic- 
bird — 
What doth the Tune-Fool sing ? Ay, sing me what. 

Spraivoll. [^Singing."] 

What sings the breene on the wertling-vine, 
And the tweck on the bamner-stem ? 

Their song, to me, is the same as mine, 
As mine is the same to them — to them — 
As mine is the same to them. 

35 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

In star-starved glooms where the plustre looms 

With its slender boughs above, 
Their song sprays down with the fragrant 
blooms, — 
And the song they sing is love — is love — 
And the song they sing is love. 

JUCKLET. 

Your Majesty may be surprised somewhat, 
But Spraivoll cannot talk, — her only mode 
Of speech is melody ; and thou might'st put 
The dowered fool a thousand queries, and. 
In like return, receive a thousand songs, 
All set to different tunes — as full of naught 
As space is full of emptiness. 

Crestillomeem. 

A fool?— 
And with a gift so all-divine! — A fool? 



36 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OP' THE NIGHT 
JUCKLET. 

Ay, warranted! — The Flying Islands all 

Might flock in mighty counsel — moult, and shake 

Their loosened feathers, and sort every tuft, 

Nor ever most minutely quarry there 

One other Spraivoll, itching with her voice 

Such favored spot of cuticle as she 

Alone selects here in our blissful realm. 

Crestillomeem. 

Out, jester, on thy cumbrous wordiness! 
Come hither, Tune-Fool, and be not afraid, 
For I like fools so well I married one : 
And since thou art a ^ueen of fools, and he 
A King, why, I've a mind to bring ye two 
Together in some wise. Canst use thy song 
All times in such entrancing spirit one 
Who lists must so needs list, e'en though the 

song 
Go on unceasingly indefinite ? 

37 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Spraivoll. XSingingr^ 

If one should ask me for a song, 

Then I should answer, and my tongue 

Would twitter, trill and troll along 
Until the song were done. 

Or should one ask me for my tongue, 
And I should answer with a song, 

I'd trill it till the song were sung, 
And troll it all along. 

Crestillomeem. 

Thou art indeed a fool, and one, I think. 
To serve my present purposes. Give ear. — 
And Jucklet, thou, go to the King and bide 
His waking: then repeat these words: — ^'•The 

^ueen 
Impatiently awaits his Majesty^ 
And craves his presence in the Tower of Stars ^ 
That she may there express full tenderly 
38 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Her great solicitude.^ ^ And then., end thus, — 
'•''So much she bade., and drooled her glowing 

face 
Deep in the shoiverings of her golden hair, 
And with a fashing gesture of her arm 
Turned all the moonlight pallid, saying, 

'Raster'' 

JUCKLET. 

And would it not be well to hang a pearl 
Or twain upon thy silken lashes? 

Crestillomeem. 

Gol 

JucKLET. \Exit, singing. "^ 

This lovely husband's loyal breast 
Heaved only as she might suggest, — 
To every whimsy she expressed 
He proudly bowed and acquiesced. 

39 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

He plotted with her, blithe and gay — 
In no flirtation said her nay, — 
He even took her to the play. 
Excused himself and came away. 

Crestillomeem. [7<? Spraivoll.'] 

Now, Tnn&-Foo\^ junior, let me theme thee for 
A song: — An Empress once, with angel in 
Her face and devil in her heart, had wish 
To breed confusion to her sovereign lord. 
And work the downfall of his haughty son — 
The issue of a former marriage — who 
Bellowsed her hatred to the whitest heat. 
For that her own son, by a former lord. 
Was born a hideous dwarf, and reared aside 
From the sire's knowing or his princely own — 
That none, in sooth, might ever chance to guess 
The hapless mother of the hapless child. 
The Fiends that scar her thus, protect her still 
With outward beauty of both face and form. — 

40 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

It SO is written, and so must remain 
Till magic greater than their own is found 
To hurl against her. So is she secure 
And proof above all fear. Now, listen well ! — 
Her present lord is haunted with a dream, 
That he is soon to pass, and so prepares 
(^All havoc hath been wrangled with the drugs I) 
The Throne for the ascension of the son, 
His cursed heir, who still doth baffle all 
Her arts against him, e'en as though he were 
Protected by a skill beyond her own. 
Soil ! she, the Queen, doth rule the King in all 
Save this affectionate perversity 
Of favor for the son whom he would raise 
To his own place. — And but for this the King 
Long since had tasted death and kissed his fate 
As one might kiss a bride ! But so his Queen 
Must needs withhold, not deal, the final blow, 
She yet doth bind him, spelled, still trusting her; 
And, by her craft and wanton flatteries. 
Doth sway his loye to every purpose but 
4^ 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

The one most coveted. — And for this end 

She would make use of thee ; — and if thou dost 

Her will, as her good pleasure shall direct, 

Why, thou shalt sing at court, in silken tire, 

Thy brow bound with wild diamonds, and thy hair 

Sown with such gems as laugh hysteric lights 

From glittering quespar, guenk and plennocynth, — 

Ay, even panoplied as might the fair 

Form of a very princess be, thy voice 

Shall woo the echoes of the listening Throne. 

Spraivoll. \_Crooning abstractedly. "^ 

And O ! shall one — high brother of the air. 

In deeps of space — shall he have dream as fair? — 

And shall that dream be this? — In some strange 

place 
Of long-lost lands he finds her waiting face — 
Comes marvelling upon it, unaware, 
Set moonwise in the midnight of her hair, 
And is behaunted with old nights of May, 
So his glad lips do purl a roundelay 
42 



THE FI.VING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Purloined from the echo-triller's beak, 

Seen keenly notching at some star's blanch cheek 

With its ecstatic twitterings, through dusk 

And sheen of dewy boughs of bloom and musk. 

For him, Love, light again the eyes of her 

That show nor tears nor laughter nor surprise — 

For him undim their glamour and the blur 

Of dreams drawn from the depths of deepest skies. 

He doth not know if any lily blows 

As fair of feature, nor of any rose. 

Crestillomeem. \_Aside.'] 

O this weird woman ! she doth drug mine ears 

With her uncanny sumptuousness of song ! 

\_To Spraivoll.~\ Nay, nay! Give o'er thy tuneful 

maunderings 
And mark me further, Tune-Fool — ay, and well : — 
At present doth the King lie in a sleep 
Drug-wrought and deep as death — the after-phase 
Of an unconscious state, in which each act 
Of his throughout his waking hours is so 
43 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Rehearsed, in manner, motion, deed and word. 
Her spies (the Queen's) that watch him, serving 

there 
As guardians o'er his royal slumbers, may 
Inform her of her lord's most secret thought. 
And lo, her plans have ripened even now 
Till, should he come upo7t his Throne to-night^ 
Where eagerly his counsellors will bide 
His coming, — she, the Queen, hath reason to 
Suspect her long-designfed purposes 
May fall in jeopardy; — but if he fail, 
Through any means, to lend his presence there, — 
The7t, by a wheedled mandate, is his ^zceejz 
Empowered xvith all Sovereignty to reign 
And work the royal purposes instead. 
Therefore, the Queen hath set an interview — 
A conference to be holden with the King, 
Which is ordained to fall on noon to-night. 
Twelve star-twirls ere the nick the Throne con- 
venes. — 
And with her thou shalt go, and bide in wait 
44 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Until she signal thee to sing; and then 
Shalt thou so work upon his mellow mood 
With that un-Spirkly magic of thy voice — 
So all bedaze his waking thought with dreams, — = 
The Queen may, all unnoticed, slip away, 
And leave thee singing to a throneless King. 

Spraivoll. l^Stn^-mg."] 

And who shall sing for the haughty son 
While the good King droops his head? — 

And will he dream, when the song is done. 
That a princess fair. lies dead? 

Crestillomeem. 

The haughty son hath found his "Song" — sweet 

curse ! 
And may she sing his everlasting dirge ! 
She comes from that near-floating land of thine, 
Naming herself a princess of that realm 
So strangely peopled we would fain evade 

45 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

All mergence, and remain as strange to them 

As they to us. No less this Dwainie hath 

Most sinuously writhed and lithed her way 

Into court-favor here — hath glidden past 

The King's encharmed sight and sleeked herself 

Within the very altars of his house — 

His line — his blood — his very life : — AMPHINE I 

Not any Spirkland gentlemaiden might 

Aspire so high as she hath dared to dare ! — 

For she, with her fair skin and finer ways, 

And beauty second only to the Queen's, 

Hath caught the prince betwixt her mellow palms 

And stroked him flutterless. Didst ever thou 

In thy land hear of Dwainie of the Wunks? 

Spraivoll. [^Singing. '^ 

Ay, Dwainie! — My Dwainie! 

The lurloo ever sings, 
A tremor in his flossy crest 

And in his glossy wings. 

46 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

And Dwainie ! — My Dwainie ! 

The winno-welvers call ; — 
But Dwainie hides in Spirkland 

And answers not at all. 

The teeper twitters Dwainfe ! — 

The tcheucker on his spray 
Teeters up and down the wind 

And will not fly away : 
And Dwainie! — My Dwainie! 

The drowsy oovers drawl ; — 
But Dwainie hides in Spirkland 

And answers not at all. 

O Dwainie ! — My Dwainie ! 

The breezes hold their breath — 
The stars are pale as blossoms, 

And the night is still as death ; 
And Dwainie! — My Dwainie! 

The fainting echoes fall ; — 
But Dwainie hides in Spirkland 

And answers not at all. 

47 



the flying islands of the night 

Crestillomeem. 

A melody ecstatic ! and — thy words, 

Although so meaningless, seem something more — ' 

A vague and shadowy something, eerie-like, 

That maketh one to shiver over-chilled 

With curious, creeping sweetnesses of pain 

And catching breaths that flutter tremulous 

With sighs that dry the throat out icily. — 

But save thy music! Come! that I may make 

Thee ready for thy royal auditor. \_Exeunt.'] 

End Act I. 



48 



ACT II. 

Scene I. A garden oj Kruno's Palace^ screened 
from the moon with netted glenk-vines a7id 
blooming zhooiner-boughs ^ all glimmeringly 
lighted with star-flakes. An arbor, izear 
which is a table spread with a repast — two 
seats, drawn either side. A playing foun- 
tain, at m,arge of which Amphine sits thrum' 
ming a trentoraine. 

Amphine . [ Improvising. ] 

Ah, help me ! but her face and brow 

Are lovelier than lilies are 

Beneath the light of moon and star 

That smile as they are smiling now — 

White lilies in a pallid swoon 

Of sweetest white beneath the moon — 

4 49 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

White lilies in a flood of bright 
Pure lucidness of liquid-light 
Cascading down some plenilune 
When all the azure overhead 
Blooms like a dazzling daisy-bed. — 
So luminous her face and brow 
The lustre of their glory, shed 
In memory, even, blinds me now. 

\_Plaintively addressing instrument ."^ 

O warbling strand of silver, where, O where 
Hast thou unravelled that sweet voice of thine 
And left its silken murmurs quavering 
In limp thrills of delight? O golden wire, 
Where hast thou spilled thy precious twinker- 

ings ? — 
What thirsty ear hath drained thy melody, 
And left me but a wild, delirious drop 
To tincture all my soul with vain desire.? 



50 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

\_Imfrovising^ 

Her face — her brow — her hair unfurled! — 

And O the oval chin below, 

Carved, like a cunning cameo, 

With one exquisite dimple, swirled 

With swimming shine and shade, and whirled 

The daintiest vortex poets know — 

The sweetest whirlpool ever twirled 

By Cupid's finger-tip, — and so. 

The deadliest maelstrom in the world. 

\Pauses. — Enter Dwainie, behind^ in upfer 
bower ^ unperceived.'\ 

Amphine. \Again addressing instrument .'\ 

O Trentoraine ! how like an emptied vase 

Thou art — ^whose clustering blooms of song have 

drooped 
And faded, one by one, and fallen away 
And left to me but dry and tuneless stems 

51 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

And crisp and withered tendrils of a voice 
Whose thrilling tone, now like a throttled sound, 
Lies stifled, faint, and gasping all in vain 
For utterance. 

\_A£;'azn improvising. 1^ 

And O mad wars of blinding blurs 
And flashings of lance-blades of light, 
Whet glitteringly athwart the sight 
That dares confront those eyes of hers ! 
Let any dewdrop soak the hue 
Of any violet through and through, 
And then be colorless and dull. 
Compared with eyes so beautiful ! 
I swear ye that her eyes be bright 
As noonday, yet as dark as night — 
As bright as be the burnished bars 
Of rainbows set in sunny skies, 
And yet as deep and dark, her eyes. 
And lustrous black as blown-out stars. 



52 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

\_Pauses — DwAiNiE still unperceived^ radiantly 
smiling and wafting kisses down from trellis- 
window above.~\ 

Amphine. \_Again to instrument. '\ 

O empty husk of song! 
If deep within my heart the music thou 
Hast stored away might find an issuance, 
A fount of limpid laughter would leap up 
And gurgle from my lips, and all the winds 
Would revel with it, riotous with joy; 
And Dwainie, in her beauty, would lean o'er 
The battlements of night, and, like the moon, 
The glory of her face would light the world — 
For I would sing of love. 

Dwainie. 

And she would hear,— 
And, reaching overhead among the stars. 
Would scatter them like daisies at thy feet. 

53 



the flying islands of the night 

Amphine. 
O voice, where art thou floating on the air? — 

Seraph-soul, where art thou hovering? 

Dwainie. 

1 hover in the zephyr of thy sighs, 

And tremble lest thy love for me shall fail 
To buoy me thus forever on the breath 
Of such a dream as Heaven envies. 

Amphine. 

Ah! 

\Turning^ discovers Dwainie — she feigning^ 
stilly invisibility ^ while he^ nvith lifted eyes 
and wistful gaze^ preludes with instrument 
— then sings. '\ 

Linger, My Dwainie ! Dwainie, lily-fair, 
Stay yet thy step upon the casement-stair — 
Poised be thy slipper-tip as is the tine 
Of some still star. — Ah, Dwainie — Dwainie mine, 
Yet linger — linger there ! 
54 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Thy face, O Dwainie, lily-pure and fair, 
Gleams i' the dusk, as in thy dusky hair 
The moony zhoomer glimmers, or the shine 
Of thy swift smile. — Ah, Dwainie — Dwainie mine. 
Yet linger — linger there ! 

With lifted wrist, whereround the laughing air 
Hath blown a mist of lawn and clasped it there, 
Waft finger-thipt adieus that spray the wine 
Of thy waste kisses to'rd me, Dwainie mine — 
Yet linger — linger there ! 

What unloosed splendor is there may compare 
With thy hand's unfurled glory, anywhere? 
What glint of dazzling dew or jewel fine 
May mate thine eyes? — Ah, Dwainie — Dwainie 
mine! 

Yet linger — linger there ! 



55 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NlGHf 

My soul comforts thee : On thy brow and hair 
It lays its tenderness like palms of prayer — 
It touches sacredly those lips of thine 
And swoons across thy spirit, Dwainie mine, 
The while thou lingerest there. 

\_Drops trentoraine, and^ with open arms^ gazes 
yearningly on Dwainie.] 

Dwainie . \Raftly . ] 
Thy words do wing my being dovewise! 

Amphine. 

Then, 

Thou lovest! — O my homing dove, veer down 

And nestle in the warm home of my breast ! 

So empty are mine arms, so full my heart, 

The one must hold thee, or the other burst. 

Dwainie. [^Throwing herself in his embracery 

-^o's own hand methinks hath flung me here: 
O hold me that He may not pluck me back ! 
56 



the flying islands of the night 

Amphine. 

So closely will I hold thee that not e'en 
The hand of death shall separate us. 

Dwainie. 

So 

May sweet death find us, then, that, woven thus 
In the corollo of a ripe caress, 
We may drop lightly, like twin plustre-buds, 
On Heaven's star-strewn lawn. 

Amphine. 

So do I pray. 
But tell me, tender heart, an thou dost love. 
Where hast thou loitered for so long ? — for thou 
Didst promise tryst here with me earlier by 
Some several layodemes which I have told 
Full chafingly against my finger-tips 
Till the full complement, save three, are ranged 
Thy pitiless accusers, claiming, each, 

57 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

So many as their joined number be 

Shalt thou so many times lift up thy lips 

For mine's most lingering forgiveness. 

So, save thee, O my Sw^eet! and rest thee, I 

Have ordered merl and viands to be brought 

For our refreshment here, where, thus alone, 

I may sip words with thee as well as wine. 

Why hast thou kept me so athirst ? — Why, I 

Am jealous of the flattered solitudes 

In which thou walkest. \They sit at tahle.~\ 

DWAINIE. 

Nay, I will not tell, 
Since, an I yielded, countless questions, like 
In idlest worth, would waste our interview 
In speculations vain. — Let this suffice: — 
I stayed to talk with one whom, long ago, 
I met and knew, and grew to love, forsooth. 
In dreamy Wunkland. — Talked of mellow nights, 
And long, long hours of golden olden times 

58 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

When girlish happiness locked hands with me 
And we went spinning round, with naked feet 
In swaths of bruised roses ankle-deep ; 
When laughter rang unsilenced, unrebuked, 
And prayers went unremembered, oozing clean 
From the drowsed memory, as from the eyes 
The pure, sweet mother-face that bent above 
Glimmered and wavered, blurred, bent closer still 
A timeless instant, like a shadowy flame, 
Then flickered tremulously o'er the brow 
And went out in a kiss. 

Amphine. \Kissing ker.~\ 

Not like to this! 
O blessed lips whose kiss alone may be 
Sweeter than their sweet speech ! Speakon, and say 
Of what else talked thou and thy friend ? 

DWAINIE. 

We talked 
Of all the past, ah me ! and all the friends 
That now await my coming. And we talked 
59 



THE PLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHI 

Of O so many things — so many things — 

That I but blend them all with dreams of when, 

With thy warm hand clasped close in this of mine, 

We cross the floating bridge that soon again 

Will span the all-unfathomable gulfs 

Of nether air betwixt this isle of strife 

And my most glorious realm of changeless peace, 

Where summer night reigns ever and the moon 

Hangs ever ripe and lush with radiance 

Above a land where roses float on wings 

And fan their fragrance out so lavishly 

That Heaven hath hint of it, and oft therefrom 

Sends down to us across the odorous seas 

Strange argosies of interchanging bud 

And blossom, spice and balm. — Sweet — ^sweet 

Beyond all art and wit of uttering. 

Amphine. 

O Empress of my listening Soul, speak on. 
And tell me all of that rare land of thine ! — 
For even though I reigned a peerless king 
60 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Within mine own, methinks I could fling down 
My sceptre, signet, crown and royal might, 
And so fare down the thoYned path of life 
If at its dwindling end my feet might touch 
Upon the shores of such a land as thou 
Dost paint for me — thy realm ! Tell on of it — 
And tell me if thy sister-woman there 
Is like to thee — Yet nay ! for an thou didst, 
These eyes would lose all speech of sight 
And call not back to thine their utter love. 
But tell me of thy brothers. — Are they great, 
And can they grapple ^o's arguments 
Beyond our skill ? or wrest a purpose from 
The pink side of the moon at Darsten-tide .? 
Or cipher out the problem of blind stars, 
That ever still do safely grope their way 
Among the thronging constellations.? 

DWAINIE. 

Ay! 
Ay, they have leaped all earthland barriers 
In mine own isle of wisdom-working Wunks: — 
6i 



V 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

'Twas Wunkland's son that voyaged round the 

moon 
And moored his bark within the molten bays 
Of bubbling silver: And 'twas Wunkland's son 
That talked with Mars — ^unbuckled Saturn's belt 
And tightened it in squeezure of such facts 
Therefrom as even he dare not disclose 
In full till all his followers, as himself, 
Have grown them wings, and gat them beaks and 

claws, 
With plumage all bescienced to withstand 
All tensest flames — glaze-throated, too, and lung'd 
To swallow fiercest-spirited jets and cores 
Of embered and unquenchable white heat: 
'Twas Wunkland's son that alchemized the dews 
And bred all colored grasses that he wist — 
Divorced the airs and mists and caught the trick 
Of azure-tinting earth as well as sky : 
'Twas Wunkland's son that bent the rainbow 

straight 
And walked it like a street, and so returned 
62 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

To tell US it was made of hammered shine, 
Inlaid with strips of selvage from the sun 
And burnished with the rust of rotten stars : 
'Twas Wunkland's son that comprehended first 
All grosser things, and took our worlds apart 
And oiled their works with theories that clicked 
In glib articulation with the pulse 
And palpitation of the systemed facts. — 
And, cuxling ever round the farthest reach 
Of the remotest welkin of all truths, 
We stint not our investigations to 
Otir worlds only, but query still beyond. — 
For now our goolores say, below these isles 
A million million miles, are other worlds — 
Not like to ours, but round ^ as bubbles are. 
And, like them, ever reeling on through space, 
And anchorless through all eternity ; — 
Not like to ours, for our isles, as they note. 
Are living things that fly about at night, 
And soar above and cling, throughout the day, 

Like bats, beneath the bent sills of the skies ; 
63 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

And I myself have heard, at dawn of moon, 
A liquid music filtered through my dreams. 
As though 'twere myriads of sweet voices, pent 
In some o'erhanging realm, had spilled themselves 
In streams of melody that trickled through 
The chinks and crannies of a crystal pave, 
Until the wasted juice of harmony, 
Slow-leaking o'er my senses, laved my soul 
In ecstasy divine: And afferhaiks, 
Who scour our coasts on missions for the King, 
Declare our island's shape is like the zhibb's 
When lolling in a trance upon the air 
With open wings upslant and motionless. 
O such a land it is — so all complete 
In all wise habitants, and knowledge, lore, 
Arts, sciences, perfected government 
And kingly wisdom, worth and majesty — 
And Art — ineffably above all else: — 
The art of the Romancer, — fabulous 
Beyond the miracles of strangest fact ; 
The art oi Poesy ^ — the sanest soul 
64 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Is made mad with its uttering ; the art 

Of Music^ — words may not e'en whimper what 

The jewel-sounds of song yield to the sense ; 

And, last, — the art of Knowing what to Knotv^ 

And how to zoon straight to'rd like a bee, 

Draining or song or poem as it brims 

And over-runs with raciest spirit-dew. — 

And, after, — chaos all to sense like thine, 

Till there, translated, thou shalt know as I. . . 

So fui'nished forth in all things lovable 

Is my Land-Wondrous — ay, and thine to be,— 

O Amphine, love of mine, it lacks but thy 

Sweet presence to make it a paradise! 

[^Takes zip trentoraine.'\ 
And shall I tell thee of the home that waits 
For thy glad coming, Amphine? — Listen, then! 



65 



the flying islands of the night 

Chant- Recitative. 

A palace veiled in a glimmering dusk ; 

Warm breaths of a tropic air, 
Drugged with the odorous marzhoo's musk 

And the sumptuous cyncotwaire — 
Where the trembling hands of the lilwing's leaves 

The winds caress and fawn, 
While the dreamy starlight idly weaves 

Designs for the damask lawn. 

Densed in the depths of a dim eclipse 

Of palms, in a flowery space, 
A fountain leaps from the marble lips 

Of a girl, with a golden vase 
Held atip on a curving wrist, 

Drinking the drops that glance 
Laughingly in the glittering mist 

Of her crystal utterance. 



66 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Archways looped o'er blooming walks 

That lead through gleaming halls ; 
And balconies where the word-bird talks 

To the tittering waterfalls: 
And casements, gauzed with the filmy sheen 

Of a lace that sifts the sight 
Through a ghost of bloom on the haunted screen 

That drips with the dews of light. 

Weird, pale shapes of sculptured stone, — 

With marble nymphs agaze 
Ever in fonts of amber, sown 

With seeds of gold and sprays 
Of emerald mosses, ever drowned, 

Where glimpses of shell and gem 
Peer from the depths, as round and round 

The nautilus nods at them. 

Faces blurred in a mazy dance. 

With a music, wild and sweet, 
Spinning the threads of the mad romance 

That tangles the waltzers' feft; 

67 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Twining arms, and warm, swift thrills 

That pulse to the melody, 
Till the soul of the dancer dips and fills 

In the wells of ecstasy. 

Eyes that melt in a quivering ore 

Of love, and the molten kiss 
Jetted forth of the hearts that pour 

Their blood in the moulds of bliss. — 
Till, worn to a languor slumber-deep, 

The soul of the dreamer lifts 
A silken sail on the gulfs of sleep, 

And into the darkness drifts. 

\_rhe instrument falls from her hands — Amphine, 
in stress of passionate delight^ enzbraces her.^ 



68 



the flying islands of the night 

Amphine. 
Thou art not all of earth, O angel one! 
Nor do I far miswonder me an thou 
Hast peered above the very walls of Heaven ! 
What hast thou seen there ? — Didst on JE,o bask 
Thine eyes and clothe Him with new splendorings ? 
And strove He to fling back as bright a smile 
As thine, the while He beckoned thee within? 
And, tell me, didst thou meet an angel there 
A-linger at the gates, nor entering 
Till I, her brother, joined her? 

DWAINIE. 

Why, hast thou 
A sister dead? — Truth, I have heard of one 
Long lost to thee- — not dead ? 

Amphine. 

Of her I speak, — 
And dead, although we know not certainly. 
We moan us ever it must needs be death 
69 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Only could hold her from us such long term 
Of changeless yearning for her glad return. 
She strayed away from us long, long ago. — 
O and our memories! — Her wandering eyes 
That seemed as though they ever looked on things 
We might not see — as haply so they did, — 
For she went from us, all so suddenly — 
So strangely vanished, leaving never trace 
Of her outgoing, that I ofttimes think 
Her rapt eyes fell along some certain path 
Of special glory paven for her feet, 
And fashioned of ^o's supreme desire 
That she might bend her steps therein and so 
Reach Him again, unseen of our mere eyes. 
My sweet, sweet sister ! — lost to brother — sire — 
And, to her heart, one dearer than all else, — 
Her lover — lost indeed ! 

DWAINIE. 

Nay, do not grieve 
Thee thus, O loving heart ! Thy sister yet 
70 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

May come to thee in some glad way the Fates 

Are fashioning the while thy tear-drops fall ! 

So calm thee, while I speak of thine own self. — 

For I have listened to a whistling bird 

That pipes of waiting danger. Didst thou note 

No strange behavior of thy sire of late .'' 

Amphine. 

Ay, he is silent, and he walks as one 

In some fixed melancholy, or as one 

Half waking. — Even his worshipped books seem 

now 
But things on shelves. 

DWAINIE. 

And doth he counsel not 
With thee in any wise pertaining to 
His ailings, or of matters looking toward 
His future purposes or his intents 
Regarding thine own future fortunings 

71 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

And his desires and interests therein ? 

What bearing hath be shown of late toward thee 

By which thou might' st beframe some estimate 

Of his mind's placid flow or turbulent? 

And hath he not so spoken thee at times 

Thou hast been 'wildered of his words, or grieved 

Of his strange manner? 

Amphine. 

Once he stayed me on 
The palace-stair and whispered, "Lo, my son, 
Thy young reign draweth nigh — prepare!" — So 

passed 
And vanished as a wraith, so wan he was! 

DWAINIE. 

And didst thou never reason on this thing. 
Nor ask thyself what dims thy father's eye 
And makes a brooding shadow of his form ? 



72 



the flying islands of the night 

Amphine. 

Why, there's a household rumor that he dreams 

Death fareth ever at his side, and soon 

Shall signal him away. — But Jucklet saith 

Crestillomeem hath said the leeches say 

There is no cause for serious concern ; 

And thus am I assured 'tis nothing more 

Than childish fancy of mine aging sire, — 

And so, as now, I laugh, full reverently, 

And marvel, as I mark his shuffling gait, 

And his bestrangered air and murmurous lips, 

As by he glideth to and fro, ha! ha! 

Ho! ho! — I laugh me many, many times — 

Mind, thou, 'tis reverently I laugh — ha! ha! — 

And wonder, as he glideth ghostly-wise, 

If ever /shall waver as I walk, 

And stumble o'er my beard, and knit my brows. 

And o'er the dull mosaics of the pave 

Play chequers with mine eyes I Ha ! ha ! 



73 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

DwAiNiE. [Aside. '\ 

How dare — 
How dare I tell him ? Yet I must — I must ! 

Amphine. 

Why, art thou, too, grown childish, that thou canst 
Find thee waste pleasure talking to thyself 
And staring frowningly with eyes whose smiles 
I need so much ? 

DWAINIE. 

Nay, rather say, their tears, 
Poor thoughtless Prince ! [Aside.'] (My magic 

even now 
Forecasts his kingly sire's near happening 
Of nameless hurt and ache and awful stress 
Of agony supreme, when he shall stare 
The stark truth in the face ! ) 

Amphine. 

What meanest thou ? 
74 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 
DWAINIE. 

What mean I but thy welfare ? Why, I mean, 
One hour agone, the Queen, thy mother — 

Amphine. 

Nay, 
Say only "Queen" ! 

DWAINIE. 

— -The Queen, one hour agone — 
As so I learned from source I need not say — 
Sent message craving audience with the King 
At noon to-night, within the Tower of Stars. — 
Thou knowest, only brief space following 
The time of her pent session thereso set 
In secret with the King alone, the Throne^ 
Is set, too, to convene ; and that the King 
Hath lent his seal unto a mandate that^ 
Should he withhold his presence there, the ^ueen 
Shall be empowered to preside — to reign — 
Solely endowed to work the royal will 

75 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

In lieu of the good King. Now, therefore, I 

Have been advised that she, the Queen, by craft 

Connives to hold him absent purposely, 

That she may claim the vacancy — for what 

Covert design I know not, but I know 

It augurs peril to ye both, as to 

The Throne's own perpetuity. \_Aside.'\ (Again 

My magic gives me vision terrible : — 

The Sorceress' legions balk mine own. — The King 

Still hers, yet wavering. O save the King, 

Thou Mo ! — Render him to us ! ) 

Amphine. 

I feel 
Thou speakest truth: and yet how know'st thou 
this.? 

DWAINIE. 

Ask me not that ; my lips are welded close. — 
And, more^ — since I have dared to speak, and thou 
To listen, — Jucklet is accessory, 
And even now is plotting for thy fall. 
76 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

But, Passion of my Soul ! think not of me, — 

For nothing but sheei- magic may avail 

To work me harm; — but look thou to thyself! 

For thou art blameless cause of all the hate 

That rankleth in the bosom of the Queen. 

So have thine eyes unslumbered ever^ that 

No step may steal behind thee — -for in this 

Ufzlooked-of way thine enemy will come: 

This much I know, but for what fell intent 

Dare not surmise. — So look thou, night and day^ 

That none may skulk upon thee in this wise 

Of dastardly attack. [Aside."] (Ha! Sorceress! 

Thou palest, tossing wild and wantonly 

The smothering golden tempest of thy hair. — 

What ! lying eyes ! ye dare to utter tearsP 

Help ! help ! Tield us the King!) 

Amphine. 

And thou, O sweet! 

How art thou guarded and what shield is thine 

Of safety? 

11 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 
DWAINIE. 

Fear not thou for me at all. — 
Possessed am I of wondrous sorcery — 
The gift of Holy Magi at my birth : 
Mine enemy must front me in assault 
And must with mummery of speech assail, 
And I will know him in first utterance — 
And so may thus disann him, though he be 
A giant thrice in vasty form and force. 

\Singing heard. '\ 
But, list I what wandering minstrel cometh here 
In the young night? 

Voice, [^/n distance — singing^ 

The drowsy eyes of the stars groiv dim; 
The wamboo roosts on the rainbow^ s rim^ 

And the moon is a ghost of shine: 
The soothing song of the crule is done^ 
But the song of love is a soother one. 

And the song of love is mine. 
78 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Then^ wake I O wake I 
For the sweet song' s sake, 

JVor let my heart 
With the morning break! 

Amphine. 

Some-serenader. Hist! 
What meaneth he so early, and what thus 
Within the palace garden-close? Quick; here! 
He neareth ! Soh ! Let us conceal ourselves 
And mark his action, wholly unobserved. 

[Amphine and Dwainie enter bower ^ 

Voice. [Drawing nearer.'\ 

The mist of the mornings chill and gray, 
Wraps the night in a shroud of spray ; 

The sun is a crimson blot: 
The jnoon fades fast , a?id the stars take wing; 
The comef s tail is a fleeting thing — 

But the tale of love is not. 
79 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Then ^ wake I O wake! 
For the sweet song'' s sake, 

Nor let my heart 
With the morning break I 

\_Enter Jucklet.] 

JUCKLET. 

Eexl what a sumptuous darkness is the Night- 
How rich and deep and suave and velvety 
Its lovely blackness to a soul like mine ! 
Ah, Night ! thou densest of all mysteries — 
Thou eeriest of unfathomable delights, 
Whose soundless sheer inscrutability 
Is fascination's own ethereal self, 
Unseen, and yet embodied — ^palpable, — 
An essence, yet a form of stableness 
That stays me — weighs me, as a giant palm 
Were laid on either shoulder. — Peace ! I cease 
Even to strive to grope one further pace, 
But stand uncovered and with lifted face. 
80 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

but a glamour of inward light 

Hath smitten the eyes of my soul to-night ! 
Groping here in the garden-land, 

1 feel my fancy's outheld hand 
Touch the rim of a realm that seems 
Like an isle of bloom in a sea of dreams : 

I stand mazed, dazed and alone — alone! — 
My heart beats on in an undertone, 
And I lean and listen long, and long. 
And I hold my breath as I hear again 
The chords of a long-dead trentoraine 
And the wraith of an old love-song. 
Low to myself am I whispering: — 

Glad am /, and the night knows why — 
Glad am I that the dreajn came by 
And found me here as of old when I 
Was a ruler and a king. 

DwAiNiE. \To Amphine.'] 

What gentle little monster is this dwarf — 

Surely not Jucklet of the court? 
6 8i 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Amphine. [Ironically. "^ 

Ay, ay! 

But he'll ungentle an thy woman' s-heart 

Yield him but space. Listen: he mouths again. 

JUCKLET. 

It was an age ago — an age 

Turned down in life like a folded page. — 

See where the volume falls apart, 

And the faded bookmark — 'tis my heart, — 

Nor mine alone, but another knit 

So cunningly in the love of it 

That you must look, with a shaking head, 

Nor know the quick one from the dead. 

Ah ! what a broad and sea-like lawn 

Is the field of love they bloom upon ! — 

Waves of its violet-velvet grass 

Billowing, with the winds that pass. 

And breaking in a snow-white foam 

Of lily-crests on the shores of home. 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Low to myself am I whispering : — 

Glad am /, and the Night knows why — 
Glad am I that the di'eam. came by 
And found m.e here as of old when I 
Was a ruler and a king. 

\_Abruftly breaking into impassioned vocal burst. ] 

Song. 

Fold me away in your arms, O Night — 

Night, my Night, with your rich black hair ! — 
Tumble it down till my yearning sight 
And my unkissed lips are hidden quite 
And my heart is havened there, — 
Under that mystical dark despair — 
Under your rich black hair. 

Oft have I looked in your eyes, O Night — 

Night, my Night, with your rich black hair! — 
Looked in your eyes till my face waned white 
And my he^rt laid hold of a mad delight 
S3 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

That moaned as I held it there 

Under the deeps of that dark despair — 
Under your rich black hair. 

Just for a kiss of your mouth, O Night — 

Night, my Night, with your rich black hair !- 
Lo ! will I wait as a dead man might 
Wait for the Judgment's dawning light, 
With my lips in a frozen prayer — 
Under this lovable dark despair — 
Under your rich black hair. 

[ Wzth swift change to mood of utter gay ety.~\ 

Ho! ho! what will my dainty mistress say 

When I shall stand knee-deep in the wet grass 

Beneath her lattice, and with upturned eyes 

And tongue out-lolling like the clapper of 

A bell, outpour her that? I wonder now 

If she will not put up her finger thus. 

And say, "Hist! heart of mine! the angels call 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

To thee!" Ho! ho! Or will her blushing face 
Light up her dim boudoir and, from her glass, 
Flare back to her a flame upsprouting from 
The hot-cored socket of a soul whose light 
She thought long since had guttered out ? — Ho ! ho ! 
Or, haply, will she chastely bend above — 
A Parian phantomette, with head atip 
And twinkling fingers dusting down the dews 
That glitter on the tarapyzma-vines 
That riot round her casement — gathering 
Lush blooms to pelt me with while I below 
All winkingly await the fragrant shower? 
Ho ! ho ! how jolly is this thing of love ! 
But how much richer, rarer, jollier 
Than all the loves is this rare love of mine ! 
Why, my sweet Princess doth not even dream 
I am her lover, — for, to here confess, 
I have a way of wooing all mine own, 
And waste scant speech in creamy compliment 
And courtesies all gaumed with winy words. — 
In sooth, I do not woo at all — I win! 
S5 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

How is it now the old duet doth glide 
Itself full ripplingly adown the grooves 
Of its quaint melody? — And whoso, by 
The bye^ or by the ivay^ ox for the nonce^ 
Or, eke ye, feradventure^ ever durst 
Render a duet singly but myself? 

\_Singing — with grotesque mimicry of two voices^ 

Jucklet's Ostensible Duet. 

How is it you woo? — and now answer me true, — 

How is it you woo and you win ? 
Why^ to answer you true^ — the first thing that 
you do 

Is to simply, my dearest- — begin. 

But how can I begin to woo or to win 
When I don't know a Win from a Woo ? 

Why, cover your chin with your fan or your fn, 
And I'll introduce them to you. 

86 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

But what if it drew from my parents a view 

With my own in no manner akin ? 
No matter! — -your view shall be first ofthetwo^ — 

So I hasten to usher them in. 

Nay, stay ! Shall I grin at the Woo or the Win ? 

And what will he do if I do? 
Why^ the Woo will begin with '■'•How -pleasant ifs 
been V ' 

And the Win with ' '•Delighted with you V ' 

Then suppssing he grew very dear to my view — 
I'm speaking, you know, of the Win? 

Why, then, you should do what he wanted you to^ — 
And now is the thne to begin. 

The time to begin ? O then usher him in — 

Let him say what he wants me to do. 
He is here. — He^s a twin of yourself , — I am 
''Win;' 
And you are, my darling, my " Woo'* I 
87 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

\Cafering and courtesying to feigned azidtejics.~\ 

That song I call most sensible nonsense ; 
And if the fair and peerless Dwainie were 
But here, with that sweet voice of hers, to take 
The part of "Woo," I'd be the happiest "Win" 
On this side of futurity ! Ho ! ho ! 

Dwainie. [_Aside to Amphine.] 

What means he ? 

Amphine. 

Why, he means that throatless head 
Of his needs further chucking down betwixt 
His cloven shoulders ! 
\Starting forward — Dwainie detaining him.'\ 

Dwainie. 

Nay, thou shalt not stir! 
See ! now the monster hath discovered our 
Repast. Hold ! Let us mark him further. 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

JucKLET . [ A rchly eying viands. ] 

What! 
A roasted wheffle and a toc-spiced whum, 
Tricked with a larvey and a gherghgling's tail! — 
And, sprit me! wine enough to swim them in! 
Now I should like to put a question to 
The guests; but as there are none, I direct 
Mine interrogatory to the host. 

[Bowing to vacancy. "l 

Am I behind-time ? — Then I can but trust 
My tardy coming may be overlooked 
In my most active effort to regain 
A gracious tolerance by service now: — 
Directing rapt attention to the fact 
That I have brought mine appetite along, 
I can but feel, ho ! ho ! that further words 
Would be a waste of speech. 

\_Sits at table — fours out ivine^ drinks and eats 
voraciously .'\ 

89 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

— There was a time 
When I was rather backward in my ways 
In courtly company (as though, forsooth, 
I felt not, from my very birth, the swish 
Of royal blood along my veins, though bred 
Amongst the treacled scullions and the thralls 
I shot from, like a cork, in youthful years. 
Into court-favor by my wit's sheer stress 
Of fomentation. — Pah I the stench o' toil!) 
Ay, somehow, as I think, I've all outgrown 
That coarse, nice age, wherein one makes a meal 
Of two estardles and a fork of soup. 
Hey ! sanaloo ! Lest my starved stomach stand 
Awe-stricken and aghast, with mouth agape 
Before the rich profusion of this feast, 
I lubricate it with a glass of merl 
And coax it on to more familiar terms 
Of fellowship with those delectables. 

[^Pours wine and holds up goblet with mock court- 
liness.'] 

90 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Mine host ! — Thou of the viewless presence and 
Hush-haunted lip : — Thy most imperial, 
Ethereal, and immaterial health! 
Live till the sun dries up, and comb thy cares 
With star-prongs till the comets fizzle out 
And fade away and fail and are no more ! 

[Drains and refills goblet. '\ 

And, if thou wilt permit me to observe, — 
The gleaming shaft of spirit in this wine 
Goes whistling to its mark, and full and fair 
Zipps to the target-centre of my soul ! 
Why, now am I the veriest gentleman, 
That ever buttered woman with a smile. 
And let her melt and run and drip and ooze 
All over and around a wanton heart ! 
And if my mistress bent above me now, 
In all my hideous deformity, 
I think she would look over, as it were. 
The hump upon my back, and so forget 
The kinks and knuckles of my crooked legs, 
91 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

In this enchanting smile, she needs must leap, 
Love-dazzled, and fall faint and fluttering 
Within these yawning, all-devouring arms 
Of mine ! Ho ! ho ! And yet Crestillomeem 
Would have me blight my dainty Dwainie with 
This feather from the Devil's wing! — But I 
Am far .too full of craft to spoil the eyes 
That yet shall pour their love like nectar out 
Into mine own, — and I am far too deep 
For royal wit to wade my purposes. 

Dwainie. [7b Amphine.] 
What can he mean ? 

Amphine. \Chajing in suppressed frenzy. "^ 

Ha ! to rush forward and 
Tear out his tongue and slap it in his face ! 

Dwainie. \_To Amphine.] 
Nay, nay ! Hist what he saith ! 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 
JUCKLET. 

How big a fool — 
How all magnificent an idiot 
Would I be to blight her — (my peerless one! — 
My very soul's soul!) as Crestillomeem 
Doth instigate me to, for her hate's sake — 
And inward y^a/cz^iy, as well, belike! — 
Wouldst have my Dwainie blinded to my charms — 
For charms, good sooth, were every several flaw 
Of my malformed outer-self, compared 
With that his Handsomeness the Prince Amphine 
Shalt change to at a breath of my puff'd cheek, 
E'en were it weedy-bearded at the time 
With such a stubble as a huntsman well 
Might lose his spaniel in ! Ho ! ho ! Ho ! ho 1 
I fear me, O my coy Crestillomeem, 
Thine ancient coquetry doth challenge still 
Thine own vain admiration overmuch ! 
/to crush her? — when thou, as certainly, 
Hast armed me to smite down the only bar 
93 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

That lies betwixt her love and mine ? Ho ! ho ! 

Hey! but the revel I shall riot in 

Above the beauteous Prince, instantuously 

Made all abhorrent as a reptiled bulk! 

Ho ! ho ! my princely wooer of the fair 

Rare lady of mine own superior choice! 

Pah ! but niy very 'maginings of him 

Refined to that shamed, sickening shape. 

Do so beloathe me of him there be qualms 

Expostulating in my forum now! 

Ho ! what unprincifying properties 

Of medication hath her Majesty 

Put in my tender charge ! Ho ! ho ! Ho ! ho ! 

Ah, Dwainie! sweetest sweet! what shock to 

thee ? — 
I wonder, when she sees the human toad 
Squat at her feet and cock his filmy eyes 
Upon her and croak love, if she will not 
Call me to tweezer him with two long sticks 
And toss him from her path. — O ho ! Ho ! ho ! 



94 



THK FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Hell bend him o'er some blossom quick, that I 
May have one brother in the flesh ! 

\_JVods drowsily. "^ 

DwAiNiE. [Zb Amphine.] 

Ha ! See ! 
He groweth drunken. — Soh! Bide yet a spell 
And I will vex him with my sorcery : 
Then shall we hence, — for lo, the node when all 
Our subtlest arts and strategies must needs 
Be quickened into acts and swift results. 
Now bide thou here, and in mute silence mark 
The righteous penalty that hath accrued 
Upon that dwarfed monster. 

\^She stands^ still in concealment from the dwarfs 
her tense gaze fixed ufon him. as though in 
m.ute and painful act of incantation. — ^JucK- 
LET affected drowsily — yawns and muinhles 
incoherently — stretches^ and gradually sinks 
at full length on the sward. — Dwainie m.oves 

95 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OB' THE NIGHT 

forward — Amphine, folio-wing^ is about to 
set foot contemptuously on sleeper's breast, but 
is caught and held away by Dwainie, who 
imperiously waves him. back, and still, in 
pantomime, commanding, bids kitn turn and 
hide his face — Amphine obeying as though 
unable to do otherwise. Dwainie then un- 
binds her hair, and throwing it all forward 
covering her face and bending till it trails 
the ground, she lifts to the knee her dress, 
and so walks backward in a circle round the 
sleeping Jucklet, crooning to herself an 
incoherent song. That pausing, letting fall 
her gown, aftd rising to full stature, waves 
her hands above the sleeper' s face, and runs 
to Amphine, who turns about and gazes on 
her with new wonderment. ] 

Dwainie. \To Amphine.] 

Now shalt thou 
Look on such scaith as thou hast never dreamed. 
96 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

[_As she sfeaks^ half averting her face as with 
melancholy apprehension^ chorus of lugtibri- 
ous voices heard chanting discordantly .'\ 

Voices. 

When the fat moon smiles, 
And the comets kiss, 

And the elves of Spirkland flit, 
The Whanghoo twunkers 
A tune like this, 

And the Nightmares champ the bit. 

\_As chorus dies away, a comet, freighted with 
weird shapes, dips from the night and trails 
near Jucklet's sleeping figure, while, with 
attendant goblin -forms, two Nightmares, 
Creech and Gritchfang, alight. — The 
comet hisses, switches its tail and disap-' 
pears, while the two goblins hover buzzingly 
over JucKLET, who starts wide-eyed and 

1 97 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

stares jixedly at them^ with horribly contorted 
features. '] 

Creech. \_To Gritchfang.] 
Buzz! 

Buzz ! 

Buzz! 

Buzz! 
Flutter your wings like your grandmother does ! 
Tuck in your chin and wheel over and nvhir-r-r 
Like a dickerbug fast in the web of the wuhrr ! 
Reel out your tongue, and untangle your toes 
And rattle your claws o'er the bridge of his nose; 
Tickle his ears with your feathers and fuzz, 
And keep up a hum like your grandmother does ! 

[JucKLET ?noans and clutches at air convulsively.^ 

Amphine. \_Shuddering .'\ 

Most grewsome sight ! See how the poor worm 

writhes ! 
How must he suffer ! 

98 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 
DWAINIE. 

Ay, but good is meant — 
A far voice sings it so. 

Gritchfang. [Zb Creech.] 

Let me dive deep in his nostriline caves, 
And keep an eye out as to how he behaves: 
Fasten him down while I put him to rack — 
And don't let him flop from the flat of his back! 

\JShrinks to minute size^ while goblin attendants 
■pluck frojn shrubbery a great lily -shaped 
flower which they invert funnel-wise^ with 
small end at sleeper^s nostrils^ hoisting 
Gritchfang in at top and jostling shape 
downward gradually from sights and — re- 
moving flower^ — voice <?/" Gritchfang contin- 
ues gleefully from, within sleeper's head.'] 



99 



LofC. 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Ho ! I have bored through the floor of his brains, 
And set them all writhing with torturous pains ; 
And I shriek out the prayer, as I whistle and whiz, 
I may be the nightmare that my grandmother is ! 

\_JReappears, through reversal of flovoer-metkod ^ 
asstimifzg former shape, crosses to Creech, 
and, joining, the twain dance on sleep 67''' s 
stomach in broke7t tim.e to duo.^ 

Duo. 

Whing! 

Whang ! 

So our ancestors sang! 

And they guzzled hot blood and blew up with a 

bang I — 
But they ever tenaciously clung to the rule 
To only blow up in the hull of a fool — 
To fizz and explode like a cast-iron toad 
In the cavernous depths where his victuals were 

stowed — 
When chances were ripest and thickest and best 
To burst every button-hole out of his vest ! 

ICO 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

[They pause, float high above, and fusing to- 
gether into a great square iron weight, drop 
heavily on chest of sleeper, who moans pite- 
ously.'] 

Amphine . \_Hiding his face. '\ 
Ah,! take me hence ! 

[DwAiNiE leads him off, lookiitg backward as 
she goes and waving her hands imploringly 
to Creech and Gritchfang, reassuming 
former shapes, in ecstasies of insane de- 
light. ~\ 

Creech. \To Gritchfang.] 

Zipp! 

Zipp! 

Zipp! 

Zipp! 

Sting his tongue raw and unravel his lip ! 

Grope, on the right, down his windpipe, and squeeze 

His liver as dry as a petrified wheeze! 

lOI 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

[Gritchfang — asbefore — sh rinks and disappears 
at sleeper^ s mouth. "^ 

Throttle his heart till he's black in the face, 
And bury it down in some desolate place 
Where only remorse in pent agony lives 
To dread the advice that your grandmother gives ! 

\The sleeper struggles coiztortedly ^ while voice of 
Gritchfang calls from within. '\ 

Gritchfang. 

Ho-ho ! I have clambered the rungs of his ribs 
And beriddled his lungs into tatters and dribs ; 
And I turn up the tube of his heart like a hose 
And squirt all the blood to the end of his nose ! 
I stamp on his stomach and caper and prance, 
With my tail tossing round like a boomerang- 
lance ! 
And thus may success ever crown my intent 
To wander the ways that my grandmother went! 
1 02 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

\_Reapfears^ falls hysterically in Creech's out- 
stretched arms. — Then dance and duo:"] 

Duo. 

Whing! 

Whung ! 

So our ancestors sung! 
And they snorted and pawed, and they hissed and 

they stung, — 
Taking special terrific delight in their work 
On the fools that they found in the lands of the 

Spirk. — 
And each little grain of their powders of pain 
They scraped up and pestled again and again — 
Mixed in quadruple doses for gluttons and sots, 
Till they strangled their dreams with gung-jib- 

brious knots! 

[Z%^ comet again trails past, upon which the 
Nightmares leap and disappear. Jucklet 
staggers to his feet and glares frenziedly 
103 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

around — then starts for opposite exit of comet 
— is there suddenly co^tfronted with f end- 
faces in the air^ bewhiskered xuith ragged 
purplish flames that flare audibly and huskily 
in abrzipt alternating chill gasps aJtd hot 
welterings of wind. He starts back from 
them, reels and falls prostrate , grovelling 
terrifledly in the dust, and chattering, with 
eerie music accompanying his broken utter- 
ance. ] 

JUCKLET. 

^o! JS.o\ y^o! 

Thou that dost all things know — 

Waiving all claims of mine to dare to pray, 
Save that I needs must: — Lo, 

What ^ay I pray for ? Yea, 
I have not any way. 
An Thou gainsayest me a tolerance so. — 
I dare not pray 

Forgiveness — too great 
My vast o'ertoppling weight 
104 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Of sinning; nor can I 

Pray my 
Poor soul unscourged to go. — 
Fi-ame Thou my prayer, yEo ! 

What may I pray for ? Dare 
I shape a prayer, 
In sooth, 
For any cancelled joy 

Of my mad youth. 
Or any bliss my sin's stress did destroy? 
What may I pray for — What! — 
That the wild clusters of forget-me-not 
And mignonette 
And violet 
Be out of childhood brought, 

And in mine hard heart set 
A-blooming now as then ? — 
With all their petals yet 
Bediamonded with dews — 
Their sweet, sweet scent let loose 
Full sumptuously again! 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

What may I pray, yEo ! 

For the poor hutched cot 

Where death sate squat 
Midst my first memories ? — Lo ! 
My mother's face — (they, whispering, told me so) — 

That face! — so pinchedly 

It blanched up, as they lifted me — 
Its frozen eyelids would 
Not part, nor could 

Be ever wetted open with warm tears. 

. . . Who hears 
The prayers for all dead-mother-sakes, JE^o\ 

Leastwise one mercy: — May 
I not have leave to pray 
All self to pass away — 

Forgetful of all needs mine own — 

Neglectful of all creeds; — alone. 
Stand fronting Thy high throne and say: 

To Thee, 
O Infinite, I pray 

Shield Tho^ ipwe enemy! 

io6 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

\^JfIustc throughout supplication gradually softens 
and sweetens into utter gentleness ^ with scene 
slow-fadijig into densest night. "^ 

End Act II. 



107 



ACT III. 

Scene I. Court of Krung — Royal Ministers, 
Counsellors, etc.^ in session. Crestillo- 
MEEM, in full blazonry of regal attire^ pre- 
siding. She signals a Herald at her left., 
who steps forward. — Blare of trtirnfets^ 
greeted with ominous inurmurings within^ 
blent with ttimult from without. 

Herald. 

Hist, ho! Ay, ay! Ay, ay! — Her Majesty, 
The All-Glorious and Ever-Gracious Queen, 
Crestillomeem, to her most loyal, leal 
And right devoted subjects, greeting sends — 
Proclaiming, in the absence of the King, 
Her royal presence — 

io8 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

[ Voice of Herald fails abrzi^tly — utterly. — A 
breathless htish falls sudden on the court. — A. 
sense oppressive — ominous — affects the throng. 
Weird music heard of unseen instruments ."^ 

Herald. \_Huskily striving to be heard ^ 

Hist, ho! Ay, ay! Ay, ay! — Her majesty, 
The All-Glorious and Ever-Gracious Queen, 
Crestillomeem — 

\The Queen gasps., and clutches at Herald, mutely 
signing hijit to silence., her staring eyes fxed 
on a shadowy fgure^ mistily developing be- 
fore her into wraith-like form and likejzess of 
the Tune- Fool ^ Spraivoll. The shape — 
evidently invisible and voiceless to all senses 
btit the Queen's — wavers vaporishly to and fro 
before her., moaning and crooning in infi- 
nitely sweet-sad minor cadences a mystic song.'\ 

109 



the flying islands of the night 

Wraith-Song of Spraivoll. 

/ will not hear the dying word 

Of any friend, nor stroke the wing 

Of any little wounded bird. 

. . , Love is the deadest thing I 

I wist not if I see the smile 

Of prince or wight, in court or lane. — 
/ only know that afterwhile 

He will not smile again. 

The sumTner blossom, at my feet, 
Swims backward, drowning in the grass. 

I will not stay to 7iame it sweet — 
Sink out! and let me pass I 

I have no mind to feel the touch 

Of gentle hands on brow and hair. — 

The lack of this once pained me much, 
And so I have a care. 

no 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Dead weeds ^ and husky -rustling leaves 
That beat the dead botighs where ye cling, 

And old dead nests beneath the eaves — 
Love is the deadest thing I 

•4 

Ah! once I fared not all alone; 

And once — no matter^ rain or snow! — 
The stars of summer ever shone — 

Because I loved him so I 

With always tremblings in his hands, 

And always blushes unaware. 
And always ripples down the strands 
Of his long yellow hair. 

I needs m,ust weep a little space. 
Remembering his laughing eyes 

And curving lip, and lifted face 
Of rapture and surprise. 



Ill 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Ojoy is dead in every part, 
And life and hope; and so I sing: 

In all the graveyard of vty heart 
Love is the deadest thing I 

[ With dying away of song ^ apparitiojt (9/"Sprai- 
VOLL slovjly vanishes. Crestillomeem turns 
dazedly to throngs and with labored effort 
strives to reassume imperious mien. — Signs 
for merl and tremulously drains goblet — sinks 
back in throne with feigned complacency ^ 
m,utely waving Herald to proceed. '\ 

Herald. \_Mechanically .'\ 

Hist, ho! Ay, ay! Ay, ay! — Her Majesty, 
The All-Glorious and Ever-Gracious Queen, 
Crestillomeem, to her most loyal, leal 
And right devoted subjects, greeting sends — 
Proclaiming, in the absence of the King, 
Her royal presence, as h-j him empowered 

112 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

To sit and occupy, maintain and hold, 

And therefroin rule the Throne, in sovereign state, 

And work the royal will — \_ConJusion.'\ Hist, 

ho! Ay, ay! 
Ay, ay! — And be it known, the King, in view 
Of his approaching dissolution — 

\_Sensatioii among Counsellors, etc.^ within^ and 
■wild tuTnult without and cries '■'■Long live the 
King ! ' ' a7zd ' ' Treason / " ' '•Intrigue / " " Sor- 
cery I ^' Crestillomeem, in supressed ire, 
waving silence, and Herald striving to be 
heard.'\ 

Herald. 

Hist, ho! Ay, ay! Ay, ay! — The King, in view 
Of his approaching dissolution, hath 
Decreed this instrument — this royal scroll 

[ Unrolling and displaying scroll. "^ 
With royal seal thereunto set by Krung's 
Most sacred act and sign — 

8 11^, 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

\_General sensation -within^ and growing tutnult 
without, with wrangling cries of '•'•Plot I " 
' ' Treason / " " Conspiracy I ' ' ajtd '•'■Down 
with the Queen!" '■'■Down with the usurp- 
erf " '•'■Down with the Sorceress I "] 

Crestillomeem. \_Wildly.'\ 

Who dares to cry 
"Conspiracy!" Bring me the traitor-knave! 

\Growing confusion xvithout — sound of rioting. — 
Voice, '•'•Let me be taken I Let Tne be taken! " 
Enter Guards, dragging Jucklet forward, 
wild-eyed and hysterical — the Queen's gaze 
fastened on him wonderingly .'\ 

Crestillomeem. \To Guards.] 
Why bring ye Jucklet hither in this wise ? 



114 



the flying islands of the night 

Guard. 
O Queen, 'tis he who cries "Conspiracy!" 
And who incites the mob without with cries 
Of "Plot!" and "Treason!" 

Crestillomeem. \_Starting.'\ 

Ha! Can this be true? 
I'll not believe it! — Jucklet is my fool, 
But not so vast a fool that he would tempt 
His gracious Sovereign's ire. \To Guards.] Let 
him be freed ! 
\_Then to Jucklet, with mock service.'^ 
Stand hither, O my Fool ! 

Jucklet. \_To Queen.] 

What! I, thy fool? 
Ho! ho! Thy fool.?— ho! ho!— Why, thou art 

mine ! 
\ Confusion — cries of '■'■Strike down the traitor !'' 
Jucklet wrenching himself from grasp 
of officers, 1 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Back, all of ye ! I have not waded hell 
That I should fear your puny enmity! 
Here will I give ye proof of all I say ! 

\_Presses toward throne, wedging his oj^fosers left 
and right — Crestillomeem sits as though 
stricken speechless — pallid, waving him back 
— JucKLET, fairly fronting her, with folded 
arms — then to throng continues. "^ 

Lo ! do I here defy her to lift up 

Her voice and say that Jucklet speaks a lie. 

\At sign o/"Queen, officers, unperceived by Juck- 
let, close warily behind hi?n.'\ 

And, further — I pronounce the document 
That craven Herald there holds in his hand 
A forgeiy — a trick — and dare the Queen, 
Here in my listening presence, to command 
Its further utterance ! 

ii6 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Crestillomeem. l_Wzldly rising.'] 

Hold, hireling ! — Fool ! — 
The Queen thou dost in thy mad boasts insult 
Shall utter first thy doom ! 

[JucKLET, seized frovi behind by Guards, is 
hurled face zcpward on the dais at her feet^ 
while a minion^ with drawn sword pressed 
close against his breast^ stands over hijjt.~\ 

— Ere we proceed 
With graver matters, let this demon-knave 
Be sent back home to hell. 

[ With aw f til stress of ire, form quivering, eyes 
glittering and features twitched and ashen.~\ 

Give me the sword, — 
The insult hath been mine — so even shall 
The vengeance be ! 



117 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

\^As Crkstillomeem seizes sword and bends for- 
ward to strike^ Jucklet, with su^ei'human 
effort^ frees his hand, and, with a sudden 
motion and an incoherent muttering, flings 
object in his assailant' s face, — Crestillo- 
meem staggers backward, dro;pping sword, 
ajzd, with arms tossed aloft, shrieks, totters 
and falls frone upon the pave. In confusion 
following Jucklet mysteriously vanishes; 
and as the bewildered Courtiers lift the fallen 
Queen, a clear, piercing voice of thrilling 
sweetness is heard singing. ] 

Voice. 

The pride of noon must wither soon — 

The dusk of death must fall ; 
Yet out of darkest night the moon 

Shall blossom over all ! 



Ii8 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

\For an instant a dense cloud envelops empty throne 
— then gradiially lifts^ discovering therein 
Krung seated^ in royal panoply and state^ 
■with JuCKLET in act of presenting sceptre to 
him. — Blare of trutnpets., and chorus of 
Courtiers, Ministers, Heralds, etc.'\ 

Chorus. 
All hail ! Long live the King ! 

Krung. [To throngs with grave salutation. '\ 

Through yEo's own great providence, and through 
The intervention of an angel whom 
I long had deemed forever lost to me. 
Once more your favored Sovereign, do I greet 
And tender ye my blessing, O most good 
And faith-abiding subjects of my realm ! 
In common, too, with your long-suffering King, 
Havejj/g long suffered, blamelessly as he: 
Now, therefore, know ye all what, until late, 
119 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

He knew not of himself, and with him share 
The rapturous assurance that is his, — 
That, for all time to come, are we restored 
To the old glory and most regal pride 
And opulence and splendor of our realm. 

\T'urning with gained features to the strangely 

stricken Queen.] 
There have been, as ye needs must know, strange 

spells 
And wicked sorceries at work within 
The very dais-boundaries of the Throne. 
Lo ! then, behold your harrier and mine, 
And with me grieve for the self-ruined Queen 
Who grovels at my feet, blind, speechless, and 
So stricken with a curse herself designed 
Should light upon Hope's fairest minister. 

\_Motions attendants ^ who lead away Crestillo- 
MEEM — the King gazing after her, overmas- 
tered with stress of his emotions. — He leans 
heavily o?i throne, as though oblivious to all 
1 20 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

surroundings^ and^ shading into speech his 
varying thought^ as in a trance^ speaks as 
though witless of both utterance and au- 
ditor. '\ 

I loved her. — Why? I never knew. — Perhaps 
Because her face was fair; perhaps because 
Her eyes were blue and wore a weary air; — 
Perhaps . . . perhaps because her limpid face 
Was eddied with a restless tide, wherein 
The dimples found no place to anchor and 
Abide: perhaps because her tresses beat 
A froth of gold about her throat, and poured 
In splendor to the feet that ever seemed 
Afloat. Perhaps because of that wild way 
Her sudden laughter overleapt propriety ; 
Or — who will say? — perhaps the way she wept. 
Ho ! have ye seen the swollen heart of summer 
Tempest, o'er the plain, with throbs of thunder 
Burst apart and drench the earth with rain ? She 
Wept like that. — And to recall, with one wild 
glanq§ 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Of memory, our last love-parting — tears 
And all. . . . It thrills and maddens me! And yet 
My dreams will hold her, flushed from lifted brow- 
To finger-tips, with passion's ripest kisses 
Crushed and mangled on her lips. . . . O woman ! 

while 
Your face was fair, and heart was pure, and lips 
Were true, and hope as golden as your hair, 
I should have strangled you ! 

\^As Krung, ceasing to sj^eak^ -piteously lifts his 
face, Spraivoll all suddenly appears, in space 
left vacant by the Queen, and, kneeling, kisses the 
King's hand. — He bends in tenderness, kissing 
her brow — then lifts and seats her at his side. 
Speaks then to throng. '\ 

Good Subjects — Lords : 
Behold in this sweet woman here my child 
Whom, years agone, the cold, despicable 
Crestillomeem — by baleful, wicked arts 
And grewsome spells and fearsome witcheries — 

J33 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 

Did spirit off to some strange otherland, 

Where, happily, a Wunkland Princess found 

Her, and undid the spell by sorcery 

More potent — ay. Divine^ since it works naught 

'QuX.good — the gift of yEo, to right wrong. 

This magic dower the Wunkland Princess hath 

Enlisted in our restoration here, 

In secret service, till this joyful hour 

Of our complete deliverance. Even thus. — 

Lo, let the peei'less Princess now appear! 

\He lifts sce^tre^ and a gust of melody^ divinely 
beautiful^ sweeps through the court. — The 
star above the throne loosens and drops slowly 
downward^ bursting like a bubble on the 
sceptre-tip ^1 and, issuing therefroin, Amphine 
and Dwainie, hand in hand, kneel at the 
feet of Krung, who bends above them with 
his blessing, while Jucklet capers wildly 
round the groups 



123 



THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT 
JUCKLET. 

Ho! ho! but I could shriek for very joy! 
And though my recent rival, fair Amphine, 
Doth even now bend o'er a blossom, I, 
Besprit me ! have no lingering desire 
To meddle with it, though with but one eye 
I slept the while she backward walked around 
Me in the garden. 

[Amphine dubiously smiles — Jucklet blinks and 
leers — and Dwainie bites her Jinger.\ 
Krung. 
Peace ! good Jucklet ! Peace ! 
For this is not a time for any jest. — 
Though the old order of our realm hath been 
Restored, and though restored my veiy life — 
Though I have found a daughter, — I have lost 
A son — for Dwainie, with her sorcery, 
Will, on the morrow, carry him away. 
'Tis yEo's largess, as our love is His, 
And our abiding trust and gratefulness. 

Curtain. 

124 



SPIRK AND WUNK RHYMES 
ROUNDS AND CATCHES 



125 



TO loll hack, in a misty hammock, swung 
From tip to tip of a slim crescent moon 
That gems some royal-purple night of June — 

To dream of songs that never have been sung 

Since the first stars were stilled and God was young 
And heaven as lonesome as a lonesome tune: 
To lie thust lost to earth, with lids aswoon; 

By curious, cool winds back and forward flung , 
With fluttering hair, blurred eyes, ajid utter ease 

Adrift like lazy blood through every vein; 
And then, — the pulse of unvoiced melodies 

Timing the raptured se7ise to some refrain 

That knows nor words, nor rhymes^ nor euphonies^ 
Save Fancy' s hinted chime of unkjiown seas. 



126 



[Note. — Only the musical reader who has tried to 
whistle the elusive airs of an exquisite music-box can 
rightly appreciate how futile were a general attempt here 
accurately to reproduce the music of the Spirks and 
Wunks: So, but one simplest, all imperfect illustration 
of it is ventured. — Indeed, the imagination may be better 
looked to for the just translations of the curious airs of 
such songs as from time to time follow. So, too, in num- 
berless other respects, must the reader's fancy freely play — 
even as the writer frankly confesses his own has done, — 
in such particulars, for instance, as fancying the "ont-1- 
dawn-bird" of the Flying Islanders is our nightingale; 
their "trance-bird" our humming-bird; their "echo-bird" 
our mocking-bird, etc., etc., ad infinitum.^ 



127 



THE LOVELY HUSBAND 



Oh a love - ly hus • band he was known. He loved his wife and 




bet a • lone ; She reaped the har • vest he had s&nrn ; She ate the meat ; he 




picked the bone. With mixed ad-mir-era ev - ery size, slie smUed on each with • 




THE LOVELY HUSBAND 



1:^1 — 1 — I — 1 — h 


i-,^. a—l> h- 


Fii 


, M ' \ 


i ^ ^ . iTi 


oat dis-guise ;. This love - ly hus-band closed his eyes Lest he might take her 

■jy^ — 1 — 1 — ■. — #--» — 1 — t — M-j — 1 — ! — > i * J ■:' J i 




* i 1- 


i_d 




, ^ J " g::: 


^<L^iir-^ 1^—^ ^ 


z: 1- 


Q ^ J. M 


l-rf ll 



CHORUS. 



sur- prise. Trot! Runt Was -n't he a han-dy hob-by^ 



^^M 



^^ 



_» j ^ 



g ^' > 



s r r J " II J ^ ,^ n r — ^ r it 



What Fan She could plot and plan t Not One 



TSJ~T=T=i I J i — T^M ^ ^ I 



Oth-ersuch a dan • dy hub-by As this love • ly nian.I; 




THE LOVELY HUSBAND 
II 

He answered at her least command : 
He fanned her, if she would be fanned ; 
He vanished when she willed it. — And 
He always coughed behind his hand. 
She held him in such high esteem 
She let him dope her face with 

"Cream," — 
He'd chink the wrinkles seam-by-seam, 
And call her "lovely as a dream!" 

CHORUS 

Hot 

Bun I 

Wasn't he a lovey-dovey? 

What 
Fun 

She could ^lot and j^lan 1 

Not 

One 

Other such a dovey-lovey 
As this love-ly man! 
130 



THE LOVELY HUSBAND 



III 



Her lightest wishes he foreknew 

And fell up-stairs to cater to : 

He never failed to back from view, 

Nor mispronounced Don't ( ')you "Doan chu." 
He only sought to fill such space 
As her friends left; — he knew his place: — 
He praised the form she could not lace. — 
He praised her face before her face ! 

CHORUS. 

Shot 

Gun! 

Wasn't he a lovely fellow? 
What 

Fun 

She could plot and plan! 
Not 

One 

JLonesome little streak of yelloiv 
In this love-ly man I 
131 



THE LIGHT OF LOVE 

Song 

The clouds have deepened o'ei* the night 

Till, through the dark profound, 
The moon is but a stain of light, 

And all the stars are drowned ; 
And all the stars are drowned, my love, 

And all the skies are drear; 
But what care we for light above, 

If light of love is here ? 

The wind is like a wounded thing 

That beats about the gloom 
With baffled breast and drooping wing, 

And wail of deepest doom ; 
And wail of deepest doom, my love ; 

But what have we to fear 
From night, or rain, or winds above. 

With loye and laughter here? 



SONGS TUNELESS 



He kisses me ! Ah, now, at last, • 
He says good-night as it should be, 
His great warm eyes bent yearningly 

Above my face — his arms locked fast 
About me, and mine own eyes dim 
With happy tears for love of him. 

He kisses me ! Last night, beneath 
A swarm of stars, he said I stood 
His one fair form of womanhood, 

And springing, shut me in the sheath 
Of a caress th||t almost hid 
Me from the good his kisses did. 

133 



SONGS TUNELESS 

He kisses me ! He kisses me ! 

This is the sweetest song I know, 

And so I sing it very low 
And faint, and O so tenderly 

That, though you listen, none but he 
May hear it as he kisses me. 

II 

"How can I make you love me more?"— 
A thousand times she asks me this, 
Her lips uplifted with the kiss 

That I have tasted o'er and o'er. 
Till now I drain it with no sense 
Other than utter indolence. 

"How can I make you love me more?" 
A thousand times her questioning face 
Has nestled in its resting-place 

Unanswered, till, though I adore 
This thing of being loved, I doubt 
Not I could get along without. 



SONGS TUNELESS 

"How can she make me love her more?"- 
Ah! little woman, if, indeed, 
I might be frank as is the need 

Of frankness, I would fall before 
Her very feet, and there confess 
My love were more if hers were less. 

Ill 

Since I am old I have no care 
To babble silly tales of when 
I loved, and lied, as other men 

Have done, who boasted here and there, 
They would have died for the fair thing 
They after murdered, marrying. 

Since I am old I reason thus — 
No thing survives, of all the past, 
But just regret enough to last 

Us till the clods have smothered us ; — 
Then, with our dead loves, side by side, 
We may, perhaps, be satisfied. 



SONGS TUNELESS 

Since I am old, and strive to blow 
Alive the embers of my youth 
And early loves, I find, in sooth, 

An old man's heart may burn so low, 
'Tis better just to calmly sit 
And rake the ashes over it. 



136 



OUT OF THE DARK AND THE DEARTH 

Ho! but the darkness was densely black! 

And young feet faltered and groped their way, 
With never the gleam of a star, alack! 
Nor a moonbeam's lamest ray! — 

Blind of light as the blind of sight. — 
And that was the night — the night ! 

And out of the blackness, vague and vast, 

And out of the dark and the dearth, behold! — 
A great ripe radiance grew at last 
And burst like a bubble of gold. 

Gilding the way that the feet danced on. — ■ 
And that was the dawn — The Dawn ! 



137 



SPIRK TROLL-DERISIVE 



The Crankadox leaned o'er the edge of the moon 
And wistfully gazed on the sea — 

The sea, — 
Where the Cryxabodill madly whistled a tune 
To the air of "Ti-fol-de-ding-dee"— 

Ding-dee — 
To the air of "Ti-fol-de-ding-dee." 
The quavering shriek 
Of the Fly-up-the-creek 
Was fitfully wafted afar — 

Afar — 
To the Queen of the Wunks as she powdered her 
cheek 
With the pulverized rays of a star — 

Ar-rar — 
The pulverized rays of a star. 



SPIRK TROLL-DERISIVE 



II 



The Ghost of the Zhack flitted by in a trance, 
And the Squidjum hid under a tub — 

A tub — 
As he heard the loud hooves of the Hooken ad- 
vance 
With a rub-a-dub — dub-a-dub — dub ! 

Dub-dub I 
With a rub-a-dub — dub-a-dub — dub ! 
And the Crankadox cried, 
As he lay down and died, 
"My fate there is none to bewail — 

Bewail I " 
While the Queen of the Wunks drifted over the 
tide 
With a long piece of crape to her tail 

So ^ale — 
A long piece of crape to her tail ! 



139 



THE ROMAUNT OF KING MORDAMEER 

Ho ! did ye hear of Mordameer, 

The King of Slumberland ! 
A lotus-crown upon his brow — 

A poppy in his hand, 
And all the elves that people dreams 

To bow at his command. 

His throne is wrought of blackest night, 

Enriched with rare designs 
Wherein the blazing comet runs 

And writhes and wreaths and twines 
About a crescent angel-face 

That ever smiling shines. 



140 



THE ROMAUNT OF KING MORDAMEER 

The dais is of woven rays 

Of starlight fringed with shade, 

And jewelled o'er with gems of dew, 
And dyed and interlaid 

With every gleaming tint and hue 
Of which the flowers are made. 

And when the day has died away 

In darkness o'er the land, 
The King bends down his dusky face 

And takes the sleeper's hand, 
And lightly o'er his folded eyes 

He waves his magic wand. 

And lo ! within his princely home, 

Upon his downy bed, 
With soft and silken coverlets 

And curtains round him spread, 
The rich man rolls in troubled sleep, 

And moans in restless dread: 

141 



THE ROMAUNT OF KING MORDAMEER 

His eyes are closed, yet Mordameer 

May see their stony stare 
As plainly fixed in agony 

As though the orbs were bare 
And glaring at the wizard throng 

That fills the empty air: — 

A thousand shapes, with phantom japes, 
Dance o'er the sleeper's sight, — 

With fingers bony-like and lean. 
And faces pinched and white. 

And withered cheeks, and sunken eyes 
With ever-ravening sight. 

And such the dreams that Mordameer 
Brings to the child of Pride, — 

The worn and wasted forms that he 
Hath stinted and denied — 

Of those who filled his coffers up 
And empty-handed died. 

143 



THE ROM AUNT OF KING MORD AMEER 

And then again he waves his wand : 

And from his lair of straw 
The felon, with his fettered limbs, 

Starts up with fear and awe, 
And stares with starting eyes upon 

A vision of the law: 

A grim procession passes by, 
The while he glares in fear — 

With faces, from a wanton's smile 
Down to a demon's leer, — 

The woman marching at the front, 
The hangman at the rear. 

All ways are clear to Mordameer: 
The ocean knows his tread; 

His feet are free on land or sea: — 
Above the sailor's head 

He hangs a dream of home, and bends 
Above his cottage-bed: 

143 



THE ROMAUNT OF KING MORDAMKER 

And, nestled in the mother's arms, 

A child surpassing fair, 
In slumber lies, its tiny hands 

Entangled in her hair. 
And round its face a smile that moves 

Its lips as though in prayer. 

And lo ! the good king feasts its eyes 
With fruits from foreign shores. 

And pink-lipped shells that ever mock 
The ocean as it roars ; 

And in the mother's arms he folds 
The form that she adores. 

Through all the hovels of the poor 
He steals with noiseless tread, 

And presses kisses o'er and o'er 
Where sorrow's tears are shed, 

Till old caresses live once more 
That are forever dead. 

144 



THE ROMAUNT OF KING MORDAMEER 

Above the soldier in his tent 

Are glorious battles fought ; 
And o'er the prince's velvet couch, 

And o'er the peasant's cot, 
And o'er the pallet of disease 

His vv^ondrous spells are w^rought. 

He bends him o'er the artist's cot, 

And fills his dazzled mind 
With airy forms that float about 

Like clouds in summer wind, 
O'er landscapes that the angels wrought 

And God Himself designed. 

And drifting through the poet's dreams 
The seraph trails her wings, 

And fills the chancels of his soul 
With heavenly whisperings ; 

Till, swooning with delight, he hears 
The song he never sings. 

lo 145 



THE ROMAUNT OF KING MORDAMEER 

He walks the wide world's everyway, 
This monarch grand and grim ; 

All paths that reach the human heart, 
However faint and dim, 

He journeys, for the darkest night 
Is light as day to him. 

And thus the lordly Mordameer 
Rules o'er his mystic realm, 

With gems from out the star's red core 
To light his diadem, 

And kings and emperors to kneel 
And kiss his garment's hem. 

For once, upon a night of dreams, 

Adown the aisles of space 
I strayed so far that I forgot 

Mine own abiding-place, 
And wandered into Slumberland, 

And met him face to face. 

146 



DEATH 

Lo, I am dying! And to feel the King 
Of Terrors fasten on me, steeps all sense 
Of life, and love, and loss, and everything, 
In such deep calms of restful indolence, 
His keenest fangs of pain are sweet to me 
As fused kisses of mad lovers' lips 
When, flung shut-eyed in spasmed ecstasy, 
They feel the world spin past them in eclipse, 
And so thank God with ever-tightening lids! 
But what I see, the soul of me forbids 
All utterance of ; and what I hear and feel, 
The rattle in my throat could ill reveal 
Though it were music to your ears as to 
Mine own. — Press closer — closer — I have grown 
So great, your puny arms about me thrown 
Seem powerless to hold me here with you ;— . 

H7 



DEATH 



I slip away — I waver — and — I fall — 
Christ I What a plunge! Where am I drop- 
ping ? All 
My breath bursts into dust — I cannot cry — 
I whirl — I reel and veer up overhead, 
And drop flat-faced against — against — the sky — 
Soh, bless me! I am dead! 



148 



WE ARE NOT ALWAYS GLAD WHEN 
WE SMILE 

We are not always glad when we smile : 
Though we wear a fair face and are gay, 

And the world we deceive 

May not ever believe 
We could laugh in a happier way. — " 
Yet, down in the deeps of the soul, 
Ofttimes, with our faces aglow. 

There's an ache and a moan 

That we know of alone, 
And as only the hopeless may know. 

We are not always glad when we smile,— 
For the heart, in a tempest of pain, 
May live in the guise 
Of a smile in the eyes 
As a rainbow may live in the rain ; 
149 



WE ARE NOT ALWAYS GLAD WHEN WE SMILE 

And the stormiest night of our woe 
May hang out a radiant star 

Whose light in the sky 

Of despair is a lie 
As black as the thunder-clouds are. 

We are not always glad when we smile! — 
But the conscience is quick to record, 
All the sorrow and sin 
We are hiding within 
Is plain in the sight of the Lord: 
And ever, O ever, till pride 

And evasion shall cease to defile 
The sacred recess 
Of the soul, we confess 
We are not always glad when we smile. 



150 



THE WEREWIFE 

She came to me in a dazzling guise 
Of gleaming tresses and gliinmering eyes, 
With long, limp lashes that drooped and made 
For their baleful glances bowers of shade ; 
And a face so white — so white and sleek 
That the roses blooming in either cheek 
Flamed and burned with a crimson glow 
Redder than ruddiest roses blow — 
Redder than blood of the roses know 
That Autumn spills in the drifted snow. 
And what could my fluttering, moth-winged soul 
Do but hover in her control ? — 
With its little, bewildered bead-eyes fixed 
Where the gold and the white and the crimson 
mixed ? 



151 



THE WE RE WIFE 

And when the tune of her low laugh went 

Up from that ivory instrument 

That you would have called her throat, I swear 

The notes built nests in her gilded hair, 

And nestled and whistled and twittered there. 

And wooed me and won me to my despair. 

And thus it was that she lured me on, 

Till the latest gasp of my love was gone, 

And my soul lay dead, with a loathing face 

Turned in vain from her dread embrace, — 

For even its poor dead eyes could see 

Her sharp teeth sheathed in the flesh of me, 

And her dripping lips, as she turned to shake 

The red froth off that her greed did make. 

As my heart gripped hold of a deathless ache, 

And the kiss of her stung like the fang of a snake. 



152 



THE RAIN 

T%e rain sounds like a laugh to me—' 
A lotv laugh poured out limpedly. 

My very soul smiles as I listen to 

The low, mysterious laughter of the rain, 
Poured musically over heart and brain 

Till sodden care, soaked with it through and 
through, 

Sinks; and, with wings wet with it as with dew, 
My spirit flutters up, with every stain 
Rinsed from its plumage, and as white again 

As when the old laugh of the rain was new. 
Then laugh on, happy Rain! laugh louder 
yet!— 

Laugh out in torrent-bursts of watery mirth ; 
Unlock thy lips of purple cloud, and let 

Thy liquid merriment baptize the earth, 

And wash the sad face of the world, and set 
The universe to music dripping-wet! 



FOR YOU 

For you, I could forget the gay 

Delirium of merriment, 
And let my laughter die away 
In endless silence of content. 

I could forget, for your dear sake, 
The utter emptiness and ache 
Of every loss I ever knew. — 
What could I not forget for you ? 

I could forget the just deserts 

Of mine own sins, and so erase 
The tear that burns, the smile that hurts, 
And all that mars and masks my face. 
For your fair sake I could forget 
The bonds of life that chafe and fret, 
Nor care if death were false or true. — 
What could I not forget for you .'' 



FOR YOU 

What could I not forget ? Ah me ! 

One thing I know would still abide 
Forever in my memory, 

Though all of love were lost beside — 
I yet would feel how first the wine 
Of your sweet lips made fools of mine 
Until they sung, all drunken through — 
"What could I not forget for you?" 



«55 



THE STRANGE YOUNG MAN 

'TwAS a strange young man of the dreamy times 
When bards made money, and bankers rhymes ; 
And drones made honey — and bees made naught ; 
And the bad sung hymns, and the good-folk fought ; 
And the merchants lurked in the shade all day 
And pitched horsehoes in a listless way ! 
When the ticket-man at the station knew 
If your trunk would go if you checked it through, 
And if 2:30 meant half-past two. 
And what in-the-name-of-the-land to do 
If a man got left when he oughtn't to : 
When the cabman wept as he took your fare, 
And the street-car driver led in prayer — 
And the kuss with the dyed mustache was there 
That rode in town on a "jumper"-sled, 
And got whipped twice for the things he said 
To fellows that told him his hair was red. 
156 



THE STRANGE YOUNG MAN 

And the strange young man (of which and whom 

Our pencil offers to deign presume 

To treat of now, in the days like these 

When young men dress as they please to please) 

Went round in a coat of pale pink-blue, 

And a snow-white vest of a crimson hue, 

And trousers purple, and gaiters gray — 

All cut, as the French or the Dutch would say, — 

La — macht nichts aus^ oder — decollete^ — 

Strange not only in dress, but in 

The dimples he wore in cheek and chin — 

All nailed over with scraps of tin, 

Where he hadn't been shaved as he'd ought o' 

been; — 
And his crape cravat, and the shape of that, 
And the ear-tab over his diamond-pin. 
And his friends all wondered, and used to say, — 
"What a strange young man! Ah me! Hooray! 
How sad he seems in his wild delight ! 
And how tickled indeed when he weeps outright! 



THE STRANGE YOUNG MAN 

What a comical man when he writhes in pain; 
And how grieved he grows when he's glad again!" 
And marvelling still to remark new facts, 
They said, "How slender and slim he acts! 
And isn't it odd for a man to wear 
A thumb-stall over his nose, and pare 
His finger-nails with a carving-knife. 
And talk of prunes to the landlord's wife? 
It is patent to us — and, indeed, no doubt, 

Though as safely sealed as an oyster-can, — 
Our interest in him must needs leak out, — 

Namely, that he is a strange young man!" 



158 



"DREAM" 

Because her eyes were far too deep 
And holy for a laugh to leap 
Across the brink where sorrow tried 
To drown within the amber tide ; 
Because the looks, whose ripples kissed 
The trembling lids through tender mist, 
Were dazzled with a radiant gleam — 
Because of this I called her " Dream." 

Because the roses growing wild 
About her features when she smiled 
Were ever dewed with tears that fell 
With tenderness ineffable ; 
Because her lips might spill a kiss 
That, dripping in a world like this. 
Would tincture death's myrrh-bitter stream 
To sweetness — so T called her " Dream." 



' ' DREAM ' * 

Because I could not understand 

The magic touches of a hand 

That seemed, beneath her strange control, 

To smooth the plumage of the soul 

And calm it, till, with folded wings, 

It half forgot its flutterings. 

And, nestled in her palm, did seem 

To trill a song that called her " Dream." 

Because I saw her, in a sleep 
As dark and desolate and deep 
And fleeting as the taunting night 
That flings a vision of delight 
To some lorn martyr as he lies 
In slumber ere the day he dies — 
Because she vanished like a gleam 
Of glory, do I call her " Dream." 



1 60 



A WRANGDILLION 



Dexery-tethery ! down in the dike, 

Under the — Under the ooze and the slime, 
Nestles the wraith of a reticent Gryke, 

Blubbering bubbles of rhyme : 
Though the reeds touch him and tickle his teeth — 
Though the Grai — Though the Graigroll and 
the Cheest 
Pluck at the leaves of his laureate-wreath, 
Nothing affects him the least. 

CHORUS. 

Nay^ nothing — Nay^ nothing affects him the least I 
They may say he sings less like a bird than a 

beast — 

II i6i 



A WRANGDILLION 

They may say that his song is both patchy and 

pieced — 
That its worst may be his, but the best he has 

Jleeced 
From old dinky masters not only deceased 
But damn'd ere their dying, — Tet nothing the 

least — 

Nothing affects him the least ! 

II 

He sinks to the dregs in the dead o' the night, 

And he shuf — And he shuffles the shadows about 
As he gathers the stars in a nest of delight 
And sets there and hatches them out: 
The Zhederrill peers from his watery mine 

In scorn with — In scorn with the Will-o'-the- 
wisp, 
As he twinkles his eyes in a whisper of shine 
That ends in a luminous lisp. 



162 



A WRANGDILLION 



CHORUS 



Nay^ nothing — Nay^ nothing affects him the least I 
They may say he sings less like a bird than a 

beast — 
They may say that his song is both patchy and 

-pieced — 
That its worst may be his, but the best he has 

fleeced 
From, old dinky masters not only deceased 
But damn'd ere their dyings — Tet nothing the 

least — 

Nothing affects him the least I 



163 



THE WITCH OF ERKMURDEN 



Who cantereth forth in the night so late — 
So late in the night, and so nigh the dawn ? 

'Tis The Witch of Erkmurden who leapeth the 
gate 

Of the old churchyard where the three Sprites wait 
Till the whir of her broom is gone. 

And who peereth down from the belfry tall, 

With the ghost-white face and the ghastly stare. 
With lean hands clinched in the grated wall 
Where the red vine rasps and the rank leaves fall, 
And the clock-stroke drowns his prayer? 



164 



THE WITCH OF ERKMURDEN 
II 

The wee babe wails, and the storm grows loud, 

Nor deeper the dark of the night may be, 
For the lightning's claw, with a great wet cloud, 
Hath wiped the moon and the wild-eyed crowd 
Of the stars out wrathfully. 

Knuckled and kinked as the hunchback shade 

Of a thorn-tree bendeth the beldam old 
Over the couch where the mother-maid. 
With her prayerful eyes and the babe are laid, 
Waiting the doom untold. 

"Mother, O Mother, I only crave 

Mercy for him and the babe — not me!" 
"Hush! for it maketh my brain to rave 
Of my two white shrouds, and my one wide grave, 
And a mound for my children three." 



165 



THE WITCH OF ERKMURDEN 

"Mother, O Mother, I only pray 

Pity for him who is son to thee 
And more than my brother. — " "Wilt hush, I 

say! 
Though I meet thee not at the Judgment Day, 

I will bury my children three!" 

"Then hark! O Mother, I hear his cry — 

Hear his curse from the church-tower now, — 

'Ride thou witch till thy hate shall die, 

Yet hell as heaven eternally 
Be sealed to such as thou !' " 

An infant's wail — then a laugh, god wot, 

That strangled the echoes of deepest hell ; 
And a thousand shuttles of lightning shot, 
And the moon bulged out like a great red blot, 
And a shower of bleod-stars fell. 



i66 



THE WITCH OF ERKMURDEN 
III 

There is one wide grave scooped under the eaves — 

Under the eaves as they weep and weep ; 
And, veiled by the mist that the dead storm weaves, 
The hag bends low, and the earth receives 
Mother and child asleep. 

There's the print of the hand at either throat, 

And the frothy ooze at the lips of each, 
But both smile up where the new stars float, 
And the moon sails out like a silver boat 
Unloosed from a stormy beech. 

IV 

Bright was the morn when the sexton gray 
Twirled the rope of the old church bell, — 

But it answered not, and he tugged away — 

And lo, at his feet a dead man lay — 
Dropped down with a single knell. 

167 



THE WITCH OF ERKMURDEN 

And the scared wight found in the lean hand 
gripped, 
A scrip which read: "O the grave is wide, 
But it empty waits, for the low eaves dripped 
Their prayerful tears, and the three Sprites slipped 
Away with my babe and bride." 



1 68 



LAUGHTER 

Within the cosiest corner of my dreams 

He sits, high-throned above all gods that be 
Portrayed in marble-cold mythology, 

Since from his joyous eyes a twinkle gleams 

So warm with life and light it ever seems 
Spraying in mists of sunshine over me, 
And mingled with such rippling ecstasy 

As overleaps his lips in laughing streams. 
Ho! look on him, and say if he be old 

Or youthful ! Hand in hand with gray old Time 
He toddled when an infant; and, behold! — 

He hath not aged, but to the lusty prime 
Of babyhood — his brow a trifle bold — 

His hair a ravelled nimbus of gray gold. 



169 



ERE I WENT MAD 

Ere I went mad — 

you may never guess what dreams I had ! 
Such hosts of happy things did come to me. 
One time, it seemed, I knelt at some one's knee, 
My wee lips threaded with a strand of prayer, 
With kinks of kisses in it here and there 

To stay and tangle it the while I knit 
A mother's long-forgotten name in it. 
Be sure, I dreamed it all, but I was glad 
— Ere I went mad ! 

Ere I went mad, 

1 dreamed there came to me a fair- faced lad. 
Who led me by the v/rist where blossoms grew 
In grassy lands, and where the skies were blue 



170 



ERE I WENT MAD 

As his own eyes. And he did lisp and sing, 
And weave me wreaths where I sat marvelling 
What little prince it was that crowned me queen 
And caught my face so cunningly between 
His dimple-dinted hands, and kept me glad 
— Ere I went mad ! 

Ei"e I went mad. 

Not even winter weather made me sad — 

I dreamed, indeed, the skies were ne'er so dull 

That his smile might not make them beautiful. 

And now, it seemed, he had grown O so fair 

And straight and strong that, when he smoothed 

my hair, 
I felt as any lily with drooped head 
That leans, in fields of grain unhar\'^ested. 
By some lithe stalk of barley — pure and glad 
— Ere I went mad ! 



171 



ERE I WENT MAD 

Ere I went mad, 

The last of all the happy dreams I had 

Was of a peerless king — a conqueror — 

Who crowned me with a kiss, and throned me for 

One hour! Ah, God of Mercy! what a dream 

To tincture life with ! Yet I made no scream 

As I awakened — with these eyes you see, 

That may not smile till love comes back to me. 

And lulls me back to those old dreams I had 

— Ere I went mad. 



172 



ETERNITY 

O WHAT a weary while it is to stand, 

Telling the countless ages o'er and o'er, 
Till all the finger-tips held out before 

Our dazzled eyes by heaven's starry hand 

Drop one by one, yet at some dread command 
Are held again, and counted evermore! 
How feverish the music seems to pour 

Along the throbbing veins of anthems grand ! 
And how the cherubim sing on and on — 

The seraphim and angels — still in white — 

Still harping — still enraptured — far withdrawn 

In hovering armies tranced in endless flight ! 
. . . God's mercy! is there never dusk or dawn, 
Or any crumb of gloom to feed upon? 



173 



THE SPEEDING OF THE KING'S SPITE 

A King — estranged from his loving Queen 

By a foolish royal whim — 
Tired and sick of the dull routine 

Of matters surrounding him — 
Issued a mandate in this wise: — 

'•'•The dower of my daughter^ s hand 
I "will give to him who holds this -prize ^ 

The strangest thing in the land." 

But the King, sad sooth ! in this grim decree 

Had a motive low and mean ; — 
'Twas a royal piece of chicanery, 

To harry and spite the Queen — 
For King though he was, and beyond compare 

He had ruled all things save one — 
Then blamed the Queen that his only heir 

Was a daughter — not a son. 
174 



THE SPEEDING OF THE KING S SPITE 

The girl had grown, in the mother's care, 

Like a bud in the shine and shower 
That drinks of the wine of the bahny air 

Till it blooms into matchless flower ; 
Her waist was the rose's stem that bore 

The flower — and the flower's perfume — 
That ripens on, till it bulges o'er, 

With its wealth of bud and bloom. 

And she had a lover — lowly sprung, — 

But a purer, nobler heart 
Never spake in a courtlier tongue 

Or wooed with a dearer art : 
And the fair pair paled at the King's decree; 

But the smiling Fates contrived 
To have them wed, in a secrecy 

That the Queen herself connived — 



175 



THE SPEEDING OF THE KING'S SPITE 

While the grim King's heralds scoured the land 

And the countries round about, 
Shouting aloud, at the King's command, 

A challenge to knave or lout. 
Prince or peasant, — "The mighty King 

Would have ye understand 
That he who shows him the strangest thing 

Shall have his daughter's hand!" 

And thousands flocked to the royal throne, 

Bringing a thousand things 
Strange and curious; — One, a bone — 

The hinge of a fairy's wings: 
And one, the glass of a mermaid queen, 

Gemmed with a diamond dew. 
Where, down in its reflex, dimly seen, 

Her face smiled out at you. 



176 



THE SPEEDING OF THE KING S SPITE 

One brought a cluster of some strange date, '^^ 

With a subtle and searching tang 
That seemed, as you tasted, to penetrate 

The heart like a serpent's fang; 
And back you fell for a spell entranced, 

As cold as a corpse of stone. 
And heard your brains, as they laughed and danced 

And talked in an undertone. 

One brought a bird that could whistle a tune 

So piercingly pure and sweet, 
That tears would fall from the eyes of the moon 

In dewdrops at its feet ; 
And the winds would sigh at the sweet refrain, 

Till they swooned in an ecstasy, 
To awaken again in a hurricane 

Of riot and jubilee. 



12 177 



THE SPEEDING OF THE KING S SPITE 

One brought a lute that was wro't of a shell 

Luminous as the shine 
Of a new-born star in a dewy dell, — 

And its strings were strands of wine 
That sprayed at the Fancy's touch and fused, 

As your listening spirit leant 
Drunken through with the airs that oozed 

From the o'ersweet instrument. 

One brought a tablet of ivory 

Whereon no thing was writ, — 
But, at night — and the dazzled eyes would see 

Flickering lines o'er it, — 
And each, as you read from the magic tome, 

Lightened and died in flame, 
And the memory held but a golden poem 

Too beautiful to name. 



178 



THE SPEEDING OF THE KING'S SPITE 

Till it seemed all marvels that ever were known 

Or dreamed of under the sun 
Were brought and displayed at the royal throne, 

And put by, one by one ; — 
Till a graybeard monster came to the King — 

Haggard and wrinkled and old — 
And spread to his gaze this wondrous thing, — 

A gossamer veil of gold. — 

Strangely marvellous — mocking the gaze 

Like a tangle of bright sunshine. 
Dipping a million glittering rays 

In a baptism divine : 
And a maiden, sheened in this gauze attire — 

Sifting a glance of her eye — 
Dazzled men's souls with a fierce desire 

To kiss and caress her and — die. 



179 



THE SPEEDING OF THE KING S SPITE 

And the grim King swore by his royal beard 

That the veil had won the prize, 
While the gray old monster blinked and leered 

With his lashless, red-rimmed eyes, 
As the fainting form of the princess fell, 

And the mother's heart went wild. 
Throbbing and swelling a muffled knell 

For the dead hopes of her child. 

But her clouded face with a faint smile shone. 

As suddenly, through the throng. 
Pushing his way to the royal throne, 

A fair youth strode along. 
While a strange smile hovered about his eyes, 

As he said to the grim old King: — 
"The veil of gold must lose the prize ; 

For /have a stranger thing." 



1 80 



THE SPEEDING OF THE KING S SPITE 

He bent and whispered a sentence brief ; 

But the monarch shook his head, 
With a look expressive of unbelief — 

"It can't be so," he said; 
"Or give me proof; and I, the King, 

Give you my daughter's hand. — 
For certes that is a stranger thing — 

The strangest thing in the land I " 

Then the fair youth, turning, caught the Queen 

In a rapturous caress, 
While his lithe form towered in lordly mien, 

As he said in a brief address: — 
"My fair bride's mother is this; and, lo. 

As you stare in your royal awe, 
By this pure kiss do I proudly show 

A love for a mother-in-law I " 



THE SPEEDING OF THE KING S SPITE 

Then a thaw set in on the old King's mood, 

And a sweet Spring freshet came 
Into his eyes, and his heart renewed 

Its love for the favored dame : 
But often he has been heard to declare 

That "he never could clearly see 
How, in the deuce, such a strange affair 

Could have ended so happily!" 



1S2 



THE ASSASSIN 

Fling him amongst the cobbles of the street 

Midmost along a mob's most turbid tide; 

Stun him with tumult upon every side — 
Wrangling of hoarsened voices that repeat 
His awful guilt and howl for vengeance meet ; 

Let white-faced women stare, all torrid-eyed, 

With hair blown forward, and with jaws dropped 
wide, 
And some face like his mother's glimmer sweet 
An instant in the hot core of his eyes. 

Then snatch him with claw hands, and thong 
his head 
That he may look no way but toward the skies 

That glower lividly and crackle red, — 
There let some knuckled fist of lightning rise — 

Draw backward flickeringly and knock him dead. 



[83 



A VARIATION 

I AM tired of this ! 

Nothing else but loving! 
Nothing else but kiss and kiss, 
Coo, and turtle-doving ! 

Can't you change the order some? 
Hate me just a little — come ! 

Lay aside your "dears," 

"Darlings," "kings," and "princes !"- 
Call me knave, and dry yovir tears — 
Nothing in me winces, — 

Call me something low and base — 
Something that will suit the case ! 



184 



A VARIATION 

Wish I had your eyes 

And their drooping lashes ! 
I would dry their teary lies 
Up with lightning-flashes — 

Make your sobbing lips unsheathe 
All the glitter of your teeth ! 

Can't you lift one word — 

With some pang of laughter — 
Louder than the drowsy bird 
Crooning 'neath the rafter? 
Just one bitter word, to shriek 
Madly at me as I speak! 

How I hate the fair 

Beauty of your forehead ! 
How I hate your fragrant hair! 
How I hate the torrid 

Touches of your splendid lips, 
And the kiss that drips and drips ! 

185 



A VARIATION 

Ah, you pale at last! 

And your face is lifted 
Like a white sail to the blast, 
And your hands are shifted 
Into fists: and, towering thus. 
You are simply glorious ! 

Now before me looms, 

Something more than human ; 
Something more than beauty blooms 
In the wrath of Woman — 

Something to bow down before 
Reverently and adore. 



i86 



AN OUT-WORN SAPPHO 

How tired I am ! I sink down all alone 

Here by the wayside of the Present. Lo, 
Even as a child I hide my face and moan — 
A little girl that may no farther go: 
The path above me only seems to grow 

More rugged, climbing still, and ever briered 
With keener thorns of pain than these below ; 
And O the bleeding feet that falter so 
And are so very tired ! 

Why, I have journeyed from the far-off Lands 

Of Babyhood — where baby-lilies blew 
Their trumpets in mine ears, and filled my hands 
With treasures of perfume and honey-dew, 
And where the orchard shadows ever drew 
Their cool arms round me when my cheeks 
were fired 
With too much joy, and lulled mine eyelids to, 
And only let the starshine trickle through 
In sprays, when I was tired! 
187 



AN OUT-WORN SAPPHO 

Yet I remember, when the butterfly 

Went flickering about me like a flame 
That quenched itself in roses suddenly, 

How oft I wished that / might blaze the same, 

And in some rose-wreath nestle with my name, 

While all the world looked on it and admired. — 

Poor moth ! — Along my wavering flight toward 

fame 
The winds drive backward, and my wings are 
lame 
And broken, bruised and tired ! 

I hardly know the path from those old times ; 

I know at first it was a smoother one 
Than this that hurries past me now, and climbs 
So high, its far cliffs even hide the sun 
And shroud in gloom my journey scarce begun. 
I could not do quite all the world reqtiired — 
I could not do quite all I should have done, 
And in my eagerness I have outrun 

My strength — and I am tired. . . . 



AN OUT-WORN SAPPHO 

Just tired. But when of old I had the stay 

Of mother-hands, O very sweet indeed 
It was to dream that all the weary way 

I should but follow where I now must lead — 
For long ago they left me in my need, 

And, groping on alone, I tripped and mired 
Among rank grasses where the serpents breed 
In knotted coils about the feet of speed. — 
There first it was I tired! 

And yet I staggered on, and bore my load 

Right gallantly: The sun, in summer-time, 
In lazy belts came slipping down the road 

To woo me on, with many a glimmering rhyme 
Rained from the golden rim of some fair clime, 

That, hovering beyond the clouds, inspired 
My failing heart with fancies so sublime 
I half forgot my path of dust and grime, 
Though I was growing tired. 



189 



AN OUT -WORN SAPPHO 

And there were many voices cheering me: 

I listened to sweet praises where the wind 
Went laughing o'er my shoulders gleefully 
And scattering my love-songs far behind; — 
Until, at last, I thought the world so kind — 
So rich in all my yearning soul desired — 
So generous — so loyally inclined, 
I grew to love and trust it. ... I was blind — 
Yea, blind as I was tired ! 

And yet one hand held me in creature-touch: 

And O, how fain it was, how true and strong, 
How it did hold my heart up like a crutch, 
Till, in my dreams, I joyed to walk along 
The toilsome way, contented with a song — 

'Twas all of earthly things I had acquii'ed, 
And 'twas enough, I feigned, or right or wrong, 
Since, binding me to man — a mortal thong — 
It stayed me, growing tired. . . . 



190 



AN OUT-WORN SAPPHO 

Yea, I had e'en resigned me to the strait 

Of earthly rulership — had bowed my head 
Acceptant of the master-mind — the great 
One lover — lord of all, — the perfected 
Kiss-comrade of my soul ; — had stammering said 
My prayers to him ; — all — all that he desired 
I rendered sacredly as we were wed. — 
Nay — nay ! — 'twas but a myth I worshipped. — 
And — God of love ! — how tired ! 

For, O my friends, to lose the latest grasp — 

To feel the last hope slipping from its hold — 
To feel the one fond hand within your clasp 
Fall slack, and loosen with a touch so cold 
Its pressure may not warm you as of old 

Before the light of love had thus expired — 
To know your tears are worthless, though they 

rolled 
Their torrents out in molten drops of gold. — 
God's pity! I am tired! 



AN OUT-WORN SAPPHO 

And I must rest. — Yet do not say "She died,'" 

In speaking of me, sleeping here alone. 
I kiss the grassy grave I sink beside, 

And close mine eyes in slumber all mine own : 
Hereafter I shall neither sob nor moan 

Nor murmur one complaint; — all I desired. 
And failed in life to find, will now be known — 
So let me dream. Good night! And on the 
stone 

Say simply: She was tired. 



192 



AFTER DEATH 

Ah ! this delights me more than words could tell, — 

To just lie stark and still, with folded hands 
That tremble not at greeting or farewell, 
Nor fumble foolishly in loosened strands 
Of woman's hair, nor grip with jealousy 
To find her face turned elsewhere smilingly. 

With slumbrous lids, and mouth in mute repose. 

And lips that yearn no more for any kiss — 
Though it might drip, as from the red-lipped rose 
The dewdrop drips, 'twere not so sweet as this 
Unutterable density of rest 
That reigns in every vein of brain and breast ! 



13 193 



AFTER DEATH 

And thus — soaked with still laughter through and 
through — 
I lie here dreaming of the forms that pass. 
Above my grave, to drop, with tears, a few 

White flowers that but curdle the green grass ; — 
And if they read such sermons, they could see 
How I do pity them that pity me. 



194 



TO THE WINE-GOD MERLUS 

\^A Toast of Jucklefs^ 

Ho ! ho ! thou jolly god, with kinked lips 
And laughter-streaming eyes, thou liftest up 
The heart of me like any wassail-cup, 
And from its teeming brim, in foaming drips, 
Thou blowest all my cares. I cry to thee. 
Between the sips: — Drink long and lustily; 
Drink thou my ripest joys, my richest mirth. 
My maddest staves of wanton minstrelsy ; 
Drink every song I've tinkered here on earth 
With any patch of music ; drink ! and be 
Thou drainer of my soul, and to the lees 
Drink all my lover-thrills and ecstasies ; 
And with a final gulp — ho ! ho ! — drink me, 
And roll me o'er thy tongue eternally. 



195 



THE QUEST 

I AM looking for Love. Has he passed this way, 

With eyes as blue as the skies of May, 

And a face as fair as the summer dawn ? — 

You answer back, but I wander on, — 

For you say: "Oh, yes; but his eyes were gray, 

And his face as dim as a rainy day." 

Good friends, I query, I search for Love; 
His eyes are as blue as the skies above. 
And his smile as bright as the midst of May 
When the truce-bird pipes : Has he passed this 

way? 
And one says: "Ay; but his face, alack! 
Frowned as he passed, and his eyes were black." 



196 



THE QUEST 

who will tell me of Love ? I cry ! 

His eyes are as blue as the mid-May sky, 
And his face as bright as the morning sun ; 
And you answer and mock me, every one, 
That his eyes were dark, and his face was wan. 
And he passed you frowning and wandered on. 

But stout of heart will I onward fare. 
Knowing my Love is beyond — somewhere, — 
The Love I seek, with the eyes of blue, 
And the bright, sweet smile unknown of you ; 
And on from the hour his trail is found 

1 shall sing sonnets the whole year round. 



197 



SONG OF PARTING 

Say farewell, and let me go; 

Shatter every vow ! 
All the future can bestow 
Will be welcome now! 

And if this fair hand I touch 
I have worshipped overmuch, 
It was my mistake — and so, 
Say farewell, and let me go. 

Say farewell, and let me go: 

Murmur no regret. 
Stay your tear-drops ere they. j3ow — 
Do not waste them yet ! 

They might pour as pours the rain. 
And not wash away the pain : — 
I have tried them and I know. — 
Say farewell, and let me go. 
198 



SONG OF PARTING 

Say farewell, and let me go: 

Think me not untrue — 
True as truth is, even so 
I am true to you ! 

If the ghost of love may stay 
Where my fond heart dies to-day, 
I am with you alway — so, 
Say farewell, and let me go. 



[99 



THREE SEVERAL BIRDS 
The Romancer^ the Poet., and the Bookman 



THE ROMANCER 

The Romancer's a nightingale, — 

The moon wanes dewy-dim 
And all the stars grow faint and pale 

In listening to him. — 
To him the plot least plausible 

Is of the most avail, — 
He simply masters it because 

He takes it by the tale. 

O he^s a nightingale, — 
His theme will never fail — 
It gains applause of all-^because 
He takes it by the tale! 

300 



THREE SEVERAL BIRDS 

The Romancer's a nightingale: — 

His is the sweetest note — 
The sweetest, woe-begonest wail 

Poured out of mortal throat: 
So, glad or sad, he ever draws 

Our best godspeed and hail ; 
He highest lifts his theme — because 

He takes it by the tale. 

O he's a nightingale^ — 
His theme ivill never fail — 
It gains applause of all — because 
He takes it by the tale 1 



II 



THE POET 

The bobolink he sings a single song. 

Right along,- 

And the robin sings another, all his own- 
One alone; 
20 1 



THREE SEVERAL BIRDS 

And the whippoorwill, and bluebird, 

And the cockadoodle-doo-bird ; — 
But the mocking-bird he sings in every tone 

Ever known, 
Or chirrup-note of merriment or moan. 

So the Poet he's the mocking-bird of men^ — 
He steals his songs and sings them o'' er again. 

And yet beyond believing 

They're the sweeter for his thieving. — 
So we' II howl for Mister Mocking-bird 
And have him out again I 

It's mighty fond we are of bobolinks. 

And chewinks; 
And we dote on dinky robins, quite a few — 

Yes, we do; 
And we love the dove, and bluebird. 
And the cockadoodle-doo-bird, — 
But the mocking-bird's the bird for me and you. 

Through and through, 
Since he singS as everybody wants him to. 
202 



THREE SEVERAL BIRDS 

He! the Poet he^s the mocking-bird of men ^ — 
He steals his songs and sings thetn o^er again; 

And yet beyond believing 

They' re the sweeter for his thieving. — 
So we' II howl for Mister Mocking-bird 
And have him out again I 

III 

bookman's catch 

The Bookman he's a humming-bird — 

His feasts are honey-fine, — 

(With hi ! hilloo ! 

And clover-dew 

And roses lush and rare!) 

His roses are the phrase and word 

Of olden tomes divine ; 

(With hi ! and ho ! 

And pinks ablow 

And posies everywhere ! ) 

The Bookman he's a humming-bird, — 

He steals from song to song — 
2oa 



THREE SEVERAL BIRDS 

He scents the ripest blooming rhyme, 

And takes bis heart along 
And sacks all sweets of bursting verse 
And ballads, throng on throng. 
(With ho ! and hey ! 
And brook and brae, 
And brinks of shade and shine I ) 
A humming-bird the Bookman is — 
Though cumbrous, gray and grim, — 
(With hi ! hilloo ! 
And honey-dew 
And odors musty-rare ! ) 
He bends him o'er that page of his 
As o'er the rose's rim. 
(With hi ! and ho ! 
And pinks aglow 
And roses everywhere ! ) 
Ay, he's the featest humming-bird, 

On airiest of wings 
He poises pendent o'er the poem 
That blossoms as it sings-^ 



THREE SEVERAL BIRDS 

God friend him as he dips his beak 
In such delicious things ! 
(With ho ! and hey ! 
And world away 
And only dreams for him!) 



205 



/ A'i . 



1 1901 



